Impressions
by sss979
Summary: "For all intents and purposes, you died six years ago," the Doctor reminded Charley as he checked the scanner once more. But they were alone, in the small wooded area behind the large house Charley had grown up in. "I think our choice of clothing will be the least of what crosses your mother's mind when she sees you." ... (8th Doctor - Tasteful Adult Content, please read A/N)
1. Tardis

**Impressions**

A/N: This piece was meant to be a single scene and instead it turned into a novella. The purpose was to push the limits of the Doctor/Charley relationship and I think my cowriter (thagrrrl79) and I accomplished that. But as such, I don't recommend reading this without first reading the other scenes and short stories we have written that make this otherwise out-of-character depiction POSSIBLE. In other words, please don't start here. Anyone critical of character portrayal, wanting it to stay true to canon (of which I AM one of those readers), will most likely form a hell of an opinion about our ability to grasp these characters if they haven't seen the progression.

**1*TARDIS*1**

"You're not honestly expecting to wear _that_?"

The Doctor glanced up from the Tardis console with a startled, confused look. Charley was standing just beyond the pillars, studying him with wary curiosity. He turned down the music - the upbeat pop of the late 20th century - and looked down at his attire. He was wearing what he always wore nowadays. It was safe, for most places that he traveled, and he wouldn't have thought this outing to be any different.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

Her brows raised. "You're not serious."

He frowned. He'd gone through the added effort of period dress more often when he'd traveled with Charley than any other time in his lives. But he'd never really given it much thought. It had just felt natural to blend in. Now, nothing felt more natural than his military jacket and jeans.

Charley sighed disapprovingly. "My mother hasn't seen me in six years. I haven't seen her in at least twice that time." She stepped closer and ran a finger along the lapel of his jacket. "It's 1935 and I'm showing up with a strange man and a little girl. Could you at least _look _less like an alien from outer space?"

He raised a brow at her high neckline and ankle-length skirts. "You're not exactly dressed for 1935, either," he pointed out. "You'd need to take off half of that at least."

"My family has always been very conservative. Trust me, I'm dressed appropriately."

"For all intents and purposes, you died six years ago," he reminded her as he checked the scanner once more. But they were alone, in the small wooded area behind the large house Charley had grown up in. "I think our choice of clothing will be the least of what crosses your mother's mind when she sees you."

"Be that as it may, it's a little thing that will make a big difference."

She reached up, and turned his face toward her with gentle fingers on his cheek.

"Please, Doctor," she said softly. "For me."

He opened his mouth to reply, but didn't have a chance before the door at the top of the steps leading into the Tardis hallway flung open and a little girl rushed out in a flurry of tappy shoes and rustling fabric. She was most certainly not dressed appropriately. There was more glittering tulle on her princess dress than there was actual fabric. "Mum, can I wear this one?"

Charley glanced up at her and did a double take. "Honey, I showed you which ones you can wear."

The four-year-old gave a whine, tipping her head back and slumping forward. "But Mum, those dresses are boring!"

Charley covered her face with her hand. "Either pick one from the five I showed you or I will come up there and choose it for you."

Julia heaved an irritated "hrumph" before turning and heading back down the hallway.

"Five dresses," Charley muttered under her breath. "I gave her _five _dresses to choose from. That's more than even I had at her age."

The Doctor smiled to himself and checked the console once more. October 20th, 1935, half a kilometer from her family's front door, as requested. He knew Charley was uncomfortable being here. He also knew that in spite of her anxiety, she wanted very much to be here. Still, the tightness in her posture was more genuine than her smile at the moment.

"And what about me?" he asked her. "What is it you'd like me to wear?"

"Well, I was thinking you could wear your old outfit," she said, glancing back at him. "The one from when I first traveled with you?"

He laughed. "Charley, that's Victorian era! Decades ago!"

"Then modify it slightly. It's still better than," she waved her hands up and down, "this."

He paused, and continued thoughtfully, to himself. "Come to think of it, this jacket is not too far off from this period. Though I wouldn't want to have to make small talk about military affairs, come to that."

Ignoring him, she sighed and took his hand in hers as if leading a child. "Come on. I'll find you something."

He didn't resist, withdrawing his hand and slipping an arm behind her as he followed her up the steps. After all, he didn't particularly _mind_ period dress. It just seemed rather like an unnecessary hassle lately. Still, if she was going to lay his clothes out for him, it wouldn't be difficult to simply put them on.

"Actually," the stress and tension in her voice was more evident with each passing moment. "Why don't you go hop in the shower and I'll try to find something a bit more appropriate?"

"Charley..."

He paused at the door to the hallway, pulling her to a stop beside him. More startled than she should've been, she looked up like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. She was good at hiding all of her anxiety and nervousness under a calm exterior, but he'd grown up witnessing the attempted stoicism of the Time Lords. He could see right through her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked again.

She laughed tightly. "Doctor, it's not like it's the first time I've picked out your clothes."

He smiled, and reached up a hand to cup the side of her face. "That's not what I meant."

She smiled back and nuzzled into his hand. "I know what you meant, Doctor. And yes, I want to do this."

"You're absolutely sure?"

She nodded. "I miss my family terribly and want more than anything for them to meet you and Julia. I'm just nervous, is all. It has been a very long time and I'd long ago come to terms with the fact that I could never see them again."

"That paradox was resolved; there's no reason why you can't see them," he clarified. "But it doesn't mean you have to do."

"Yes, I do," she whispered. "They're my family and I love them."

He took a step closer, wrapping his other arm around her waist and pulling her close against him. She leaned her head on his chest as she heaved a deep sigh, nuzzling him. For a long moment, he just held her close. Finally, she looked up at him, eyes sparkling, and he saw through the stress to her genuine smile.

"And it is beyond time they met the man I love more than air," she finished softly. "And our little girl."

He chuckled quietly, then leaned in to kiss her lips lightly. He wasn't entirely sure when Julia had made the transition, in Charley's mind at least, to being "ours". But for his part, he had fallen in love with the child the moment he'd realized who she was in relation to Charley. All that he had devoted to her since then was hardly an effort. The fact that she didn't bear his genetic code made her no less his daughter in his mind.

"As long as you're sure," he whispered.

"I'm sure."

He kissed her lightly before he pulled away and turned to open the door. Squeezing his hand, she followed after. A few steps down the hallway, she released his hand and split off to head for the wardrobe. "I'll go see what I can find and meet up with you in a bit."

He nodded, and watched her go out of the corner of his eye as he turned into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The dark room came to life instantly, as if he'd activated some sort of motion sensor. In fact, it was at once both more and less complicated than that. His symbiotic link with his ship had been strengthened by centuries of practical experience. There was no thought to the synchronization between them. Where his presence went, her sentience awoke - a constant companion and yet never an intruding presence. The Tardis was as much a part of him as he was a part of her.

He took a moment to study himself silently in the mirror. He'd spent almost seven hundred years in this body - the vast majority of those on Orbis - and he looked much older than he had all those years ago, when he had saved Charley from the wreckage of the R-101. It was one of the most irresponsible things he'd ever done in all his lives - and the one he regretted the least. They might have very nearly ripped apart the Web of Time, though it was difficult to know how badly exaggerated the threat had been when the CIA certainly had ulterior motives for bringing him back to Gallifrey to tell him about it. In either case, he'd paid for his indiscretion in the Divergent Universe - with blood and sweat and tears and oh, so many nights of sensory deprivation. And it had been worth every second.

With a sigh, he rolled his shoulders back and let the jacket fall into one hand. He threw it over the nearby chair before stripping his shirt, realizing the slight ache in his shoulders as he lifted his arms over his head. As he dropped the shirt to the floor, his eyes turned back to the mirror and his hand drifted naturally, almost instinctively, to the scars on his chest. The memories resurfaced instantly. All of the pain and all of the sacrifice... the fear of falling in love. He smiled to himself. Those scars were more precious to him than words could describe.

He finished stripping his clothes before turning on the hot water and stepping into the spray while it was still warming. The chill made him shiver initially, but it warmed almost as fast as his body adjusted, and his eyes slid closed as tensed muscles slowly relaxed. For a moment, he let his mind wander to nothingness and back again to the awareness of solitude, the hot sting of the water easing away the tightness in his shoulders before it ran in streams down his back, across his chest. He sighed contentedly, and faced the spray as he pushed his hands back through his hair. This was truly one of the finer luxuries in life - hot water and safety, the clean smell of soap and thick steam in the air.

He washed quickly, pausing just long enough to squeeze his palms over his shoulders a few times to loosen them. He was tense. Not because of their intended destination. In fact, it had been his suggestion to return to the Pollard Estate, some years after their daughter had gone missing aboard the crashed airship. He'd told Charley that he wanted to see the home she'd grown up in, and that was true. But more than that, he wanted to put to rest those thoughts that seemed to surface more and more lately about what she had left behind. She was hardly mourning her previous life; she had left it for a reason and he knew she would never so much as think to go back to it. But that didn't make her miss her mother any less, no matter how many differences they'd had. He understood, in a way. It was the same way he felt about Gallifrey, and about lounging in the red grass and watching the twin suns set behind the Citadel.

"Doctor?" He heard the door open at the same time that he heard Charley's voice. "I think I found a few things that will work."

Rinsing quickly, he shut off the water and shook out his hair before peeking around the wall that separated him from the dry area by the sink, where Charley was carefully scrutinizing two suits - one in either hand - tilting her head this way and that as she studied them in the mirror. Unnoticed, he grabbed the towel off the rack and toweled his hair dry before tucking it around his waist and stepping around the wall to join her. She didn't look up at the sound of his wet footsteps on the tile.

"You were right; your old outfit would be a bit too outdated. But I did find these two suits that are very similar to something Papa would wear. What do you think?"

She lifted her eyes to his reflection in the mirror, and hesitated a beat before she turned to look over her shoulder at him. He wasn't sure if it was relief or disappointment on her face when she saw the towel. But either way, her cheeks flushed slightly as she gazed up and down his body, pausing slightly on his scars and again on the edge of the towel. Then, as if she were trying to avoid being caught, she snapped her eyes back up to meet his.

"Which do you think is better?" she asked, struggling for a casual tone as she turned fully to face him.

"I don't know. You're the expert."

He stepped closer, and reached out to touch the fabric of one of the suits. But it didn't interest him quite as much as the flush in her cheeks. Smiling to himself, he suddenly wished she wasn't already dressed and ready to leave.

"I'm hardly the expert here, Doctor," she answered with a tight laugh. She lowered the suits and took a small, almost imperceptible step toward him. "As I recall, you were the one offering fashion advice to me not that long ago."

He smiled, and circled an arm around her, pulling her tight against him as she held the suits out of the way for a moment, then dropped them unceremoniously on the floor.

"I hope you're not expecting me to try on various outfits and model them for you," he teased.

"I wouldn't complain if you did."

He chuckled and kissed her lips lightly. "Some other time, I think."

The spark in her eyes turned more mischievous as her fingers trailed lightly across his chest. "Would you wear whatever I wanted you to?"

He laughed. "You sound as if you've thought this through."

"Maybe." Dragging the nails of one hand across his shoulder, she began tracing his scars. She tilted her head to one side, lost in thought, as her eyes followed her motions. "You don't honestly think that's the first time I've played dress-up in there, do you?" she asked.

He rubbed his thumb gently over the small of her back, watching her with a slight, knowing smile. "Tease..."

"Moi?" She asked, feigning indignance. "A tease? Never!"

He laughed and pulled her closer, dropping his head to kiss the side of her neck as her touch wandered oh-so-innocently down to his stomach and around his side. Her fingers ghosted over the top edge of the towel, and he smiled knowingly, letting out a soft sigh as nerves became instantly sensitized under her touch. His kisses on her neck gained a hint of teeth as he breathed in her scent.

"Careful, Charley," he warned playfully. "I may not let you leave this room with those clothes in one piece."

She chuckled. "I suppose you'll have to exercise some restraint."

"Restraints could be arranged."

The fingers of her roaming hand found their way under the edge of the towel and his soft hum turned to a moan as he pushed his hips forward instinctively, into her hand. Her touch was warm and inviting. His body was reacting - naturally, instinctively - and his mind was filled with images and ideas of her, of sex, of things they had done and had yet to do. He left her neck, tipping his head back as she snaked her fingers into his hair, and drew in a slow, deep breath. Her kisses were trailing along his chest, over his collarbone, up to the base of his neck, nipping at his pulse points, and he let out a low moan as she grazed her teeth across his Adam's apple.

"You know, we could always piece my clothing back together," she whispered.

He laughed, a slightly breathy sound, and buried a hand in her hair as she kissed along his jaw.

"Or..."

She found where the towel was bound and untucked it. He felt it brush his legs as it dropped to the floor and she smiled up at him with gleaming eyes. Slowly, her hand continued to travel down his stomach, moving to his hip and sliding down his thigh. She grazed her nails along his leg as she brought her hand back up and around, digging them into his buttocks, pulling him closer to her. He groaned as his body responded and took a moment to make sure his voice wouldn't crack before he answered her.

"Or?"

She smiled as she rested her hands on his chest, slowly trailing down as she carefully lowered herself to her knees, fanning her skirts around her. She didn't have to speak. He knew what she had in mind, and he knew exactly how good it would feel. With a soft, needful sigh, he slid his hands into her hair - not gripping her, just touching the only part of her that he could easily reach as she cupped him gently in her hands and placed a few light, fleeting kisses along his length.

He moaned appreciatively at the way her thumb rubbed in tiny circles on his already-wet tip. Her tiny, delicate hand felt so different from his own - soft, but not uncertain, hesitant but not unsure. She knew his body intimately; she knew everything that made his mind race.

"Yes, Charley..."

Her kisses turned more firm, and finally, she parted her lips, drawing him into her warmth. That first long, slow slide along her tongue was blissful. He couldn't even think for all the pleasure that fired off, all at once, in his mind. He groaned. She hummed softly, fingertips gently probing and exploring what she couldn't take into her hot mouth.

The knock on the door barely registered in his awareness. But the little girl's voice was hard to ignore. "Mum, I can't do the buttons."

Charley pulled away abruptly, and he gasped at the sudden cool air that replaced her warm sheath. She was on her feet and turned towards the door before it cracked opened, and the little girl stuck her head inside.

"Go back to your room, Julia," Charley said firmly.

"But I can't do it!"

"I'll be there in a moment to help you. Go back to your room."

With a pout, Julia closed the door again. Charley let out a breath, and raised a hand to her forehead, pushing her hair back. "I do wish she would learn about closed doors."

The Doctor wasn't thinking about closed doors. He was thinking about the cool air and how much he really wanted the warmth of her mouth - if not other places - around his erection. But as Charley turned back to him, he saw immediately that her expression was apologetic. "We'll pick this up later."

He groaned. "Charley, it'll take five minutes."

"Doctor, she's an impatient child," she answered, mimicking his tone. "If I don't go help her now, she'll be back again in one minute and may not afford us the courtesy of knocking."

The groan was deeper this time, in earnest. "Charley..."

"Besides." A smile crept across her lips as she reached down between them, wrapping her fingers gently around his full erection. It was not the warmth and wetness he craved, but it made him gasp all the same. "I'll make it up to you later."

He pushed into her hand, but she pulled it away. Growling in frustration, he was still trying to come up with a decent protest - besides the one so prominently on display between them - when she stepped in closer and kissed him hard.

"I promise," she whispered into his mouth. "I'll make it up to you."

He frowned at her as she pulled away again and headed to the door. He wanted to stop her, and his mind was filled with visions of grabbing her by the waist and pulling her to the tile floor in a messy, wrestling, giggling fit, of holding her down and plunging inside of her. How hard could it really be to push those skirts up past her waist and take her right now? He didn't even need five minutes to find relief...

But she was halfway to the door, and if he was going to do that, he'd already missed his opportunity. Instead, he shot her a meaningful glare as she paused long enough to cast him a reassuring smile, then disappeared, leaving him to deal with his own "problem."


	2. Arrival

**2*ARRIVAL*2**

The door was opened by a face familiar to Charley - the maidservant who had been in her family's service since before she could remember. There was no time to speak. She simply looked at Charley, screamed, and shut the door again. Blinking in surprise, Charley and the Doctor exchanged glances. It was Julia who spoke, after a long moment of silence.

"That was rude."

The Doctor smiled faintly. "Well, how would you react if you opened the door and saw a ghost?"

Julia looked over her shoulder at him and frowned deeply. "There's no such thing as ghosts."

"I beg to differ."

"You would," Charley answered with a smirk before raising a hand to knock again on the heavy wooden door.

This time, it took a moment longer before someone answered. And this time, it was an even more familiar face. Charley was shocked by the way her eyes instantly flooded with tears, seemingly for no reason at all. Her mother - older and greyer to be sure but every bit the woman she remembered - stood gaping in the open doorway, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Charley?" she managed, choking on the whisper as she took a tentative step forward. "Is... Is it really you?"

"Oh, Mumma!" Unable to contain herself, Charley took a single, big step forward and swept her mother into a tight hug. Almost instantly, tears were streaming down her face. "Oh, how I have missed you."

Still too startled to speak, and perhaps even more startled to suddenly be in the arms of her missing daughter, it took the elder woman a moment to respond. When she did, it was with a tight laugh that gradually loosened into heartfelt joy as she wrapped her arms around Charley.

"I... We thought you were dead!"

"Oh, it's a long story, Mumma." She pulled away to look at her mother, reluctant to completely let go. "And I'm so sorry I never contacted you. I swear, I came just as soon as I could."

"But..." Mumma was still stammering, still shaking her head in bewilderment. "But where have you _been _all of these years?"

"Oh, I've seen marvelous things, Mumma! So many wonderful, magical things!"

"What?" Mumma was confused. "But... how? Where?"

Suddenly, Charley wished more than anything that she could tell her mother everything. She knew, of course, that she wouldn't be believed. In fact, her mother would probably think her mad. Even if she didn't, there was no way that she could ever truly understand all that had happened in Charley's life since she'd last stood on this porch. She had lived so much life, and seen so many things, all across the universe. The Doctor - both of them! - and the Divergent Universe, the Viyrans and Julia... In all the scenarios she'd played out in her head, she'd never quite figured out what she would tell her family about where - and when - she'd been.

Taking a step back, Charley pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and dabbed at her tears, trying to compose herself. Then, casting a glance toward the Doctor, she smiled as she looked back toward her bewildered mother. "Well, Mumma, I met someone."

Taking his cue perfectly, the Doctor smiled brightly as he stepped forward, offering a hand. "Hello. I'm the Doctor."

"A doctor," Mumma repeated, noticeably impressed. She looked at her daughter curiously. "I never would have guessed."

Mumma had just released the Doctor's hand when the little girl beside him stepped forward confidently and likewise extended her hand. "Hi! I'm Julia."

"Julia," Mumma noted, looking the girl up and down for a moment.

She no doubt noticed the uncanny similarity between the little girl and her own memories of Charley. An exact genetic match, in fact. But Charley was sure that thought would never enter her mother's mind.

"And how old are you Julia?"

"I'm four!" Julia answered, beaming with pride.

Mumma smiled. "My, you're very grown up for four-years-old!"

Julia nodded in agreement. Mumma cast a questioning look at Charley, but she couldn't quite manage to put her questions into words. Instead, she just stared, bewildered, as the Doctor slid an arm comfortably around Charley's waist.

"Charley's told me all about you," he said smoothly. "We wanted to come sooner, but there were obligations to fulfill first. I'm very sorry you've had to wait so long."

Charley cast a quick glance at him as Mumma nodded mutely. Sometimes she thought there was nothing in the universe that could faze that man. Relaxed and confident, always in complete control of his surroundings even when he wasn't...

Then, as if she suddenly realized that they were all still on the front porch, Mumma stepped back, opening the doors wider. "Please! Please, come in. No reason to stand outside."

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Charley placed her hand on Julia's head, gently guiding her into the Pollard family home before following her in. Tears threatened to spill out again as she was overwhelmed by familiar sights and smells. The house hadn't changed at all since she'd been away. She took slow steps as she took in her surroundings, a hand absently reaching out to touch a picture on the wall.

"Do you have any video games?" Julia asked.

The Doctor and Charley exchanged glances as Mumma stammered. "Any what, dear?"

"She means toys," Charley translated. "We didn't bring any of her toys along and she's been rather bored."

"Oh! Toys!" Mumma smiled. "Why, yes, as a matter of fact, we have plenty of toys. Mary!"

Charley let out a breath as Mumma called for one of the maids, and set a hand on Julia's shoulder, directing her towards the door where the young woman appeared. "Would you kindly show Julia to the play room?"

Mary nodded, and smiled at the little girl. "Hello, Julia. Would you like to come with me?"

"Be good," Charley called after her. "And remember what we talked about!"

Julia smiled over her shoulder, offering a thumbs up. In spite of the fact that she'd already slipped in her mention of the video games, Charley hoped she could remember to keep her insinuations of a very different time and place to a minimum.

"I'm... afraid you have me at a loss," Mumma continued as she led them further into the house. Now that the initial shock was wearing off, she was flustered by a million thoughts of all the things she wanted to do and ask.

Charley could hear it in her tone even before she began to ramble. "I wasn't expecting company. Your father's not even here at the moment, though I'm sure he'll be back in time for dinner. You will stay for dinner, won't you? And afternoon tea, of course. We were just discussing what we were going to have. Have you any preference?"

Charley smiled. She almost never saw her mother flustered. It was somehow very grounding. Being back here, in her childhood home, after so many years and so many things she had seen was more than a little surreal. The Doctor's hand on her back was also comforting. He cast her a reassuring look as she walked slowly through the foyer, like stepping into a page of her past. Of course he would be comfortable with this sort of thing. But then, he'd never really spoken at all about his own family - if he even had one. Would he be so uncomfortable to confront the memoirs of his past?

"I'll send Roger for your sister. I'm sure she'll want to join us for dinner, too, if she hears that you've returned. Oh, Arna will be so pleased! Do you know, her daughter is nearly grown now! How time passes... And your _father_! Oh, I can't even imagine what he'll say! You will be joining us for dinner, won't you? You never said. Perhaps a nice roast..."

Seeing her mother stumble over her thoughts was just the distraction Charley needed. She smiled at the Doctor as she hooked an arm through his and rested her head for just a moment on his shoulder as they headed in the general direction of the lounge.

"Of course we'll stay for dinner, Mumma," she said confidently. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."


	3. Study

**3*STUDY*3**

The study was just as she remembered it - dark wood and leather chairs, lined with books she had never been permitted to touch. Not that she had ever particularly wanted to do. Her father's books were rather boring to read. She had discovered that early in life, when they had intrigued her so much that she had risked the consequences to take a quick peek. But far from the adventures and fairy tales of her own books, they were full of boring facts and figures, and she'd lost interest quickly.

Her eyes ran over them now with fondness. This room, this house, smelled like so many memories, like so many years gone by. She stepped lightly to the desk, running her fingers over the surface. There was no hint of dust, and she hadn't expected there to be. The maids were just as well paid and well treated now as they had been all those years ago, when she had last been in this house, in this room. Some of them, she remembered. Some were new.

The sound of the door closing behind her was startling in the silence. The fact that it echoed off of the high ceiling didn't help. She spun to see who had intruded on her solitude, and wasn't surprised in the least to see the Doctor, standing still and straight - the perfect picture of formal manners and politeness. To the best of her knowledge, he was the first man she - or any of her sisters - had brought into this house who had actually made a positive impression on her mother. Of course, the fact that he had brought her back after six years of being missing-presumed-dead probably helped.

"Impressive," the Doctor muttered, turning his gaze to the books on the shelves and approaching them slowly. He pulled one down and studied the cover with interest. "You know, I never realized your family was quite so well-to-do."

"Really?" She smiled, amused. "I suppose it never really came up, did it? You rather forget about things like money and servants when exploring all of space and time."

"You've mentioned it, I think. The servants. I just never gave it much thought." He smiled as he glanced at her, then put the book back. "We don't really have servants on Gallifrey. As far as cleaning goes, the structures themselves are all largely self-sufficient. Not unlike the Tardis."

Charley smirked. "Are they also self-arranging and self-displacing when you need them most?"

He raised a brow as he came closer, leaning back on the desk beside her. "Now, I don't think that's entirely fair. The old girl has seen at least as much abuse as I have, and she's still sticking it out. Tough as nails, that old Tardis."

Charley smiled as she stepped into him and hugged his waist. His arms circled her naturally, without thought, and he raised a brow as he looked down at her.

"Not unlike someone else I know," he continued, sounding amused. "I never will understand why you two can't just hash out your differences and be done with it."

"And just how do you expect me to do that?"

"Creatively?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Well, she did bring you back to me. That's saying something, isn't it?"

"It's a start. Perhaps it's your turn to make the effort now."

Smiling, Charley shook her head again as she stood on tiptoes to place a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. "You're impossible."

"I've heard that before."

As she dropped back onto her heels, he brought a hand up quickly to cup her chin between thumb and forefinger, pulling her back up again. A bit startled, she didn't resist, only watched him with interest. The way his timeless eyes smiled back at her was captivating. Even in the midst of a place that was so normal, so easily contained and explained by natural law, one look into those eyes reminded her of just how impossible it was to contain him. And when he kissed her again, still closed but more forceful this time, he took her breath away. It was the kind of kiss she was glad he had not attempted while her mother had been scrutinizing him, or he would have likely been escorted from the house. The thought made her smile.

He smiled back as he let her go, smoothing a hand over her hair before he stepped past her, toward the window. She followed a step behind, hugging herself as she looked out at the bright sunlight washing over the gardens behind the house. "I never thought I'd see this view again," she whispered. "It's just a beautiful as I remember it. More so, even."

"Hmm," he acknowledged quietly, eyes scanning the neatly trimmed hedges.

"So many memories. This house. This room..." Turning, she scanned the room, taking it all in before her eyes landed on the only chair in the room with no arms. She shivered involuntarily. "Not all of them pleasant."

The Doctor cast a curious glance at her and raised a brow before following her gaze. "Really? I wouldn't have thought you'd be drawn to a room with unpleasant memories."

"There are certainly more pleasant ones than not. But, well..." She blushed slightly as she bit her lower lip, and dragged her eyes from the chair back to him. "Let's just say I was almost never an angel."

The Doctor laughed heartily. "You don't say."

She smiled.

He stepped behind her, arms circling her waist as he lowered his voice in her ear. "I only met you because you ran away from home and snuck onboard a heavily restricted airship..." She could feel his smile as his lips brushed the rim of her ear. "And your behavior hasn't much improved since then."

She gasped, feigning indignance. "I don't know what you're talking about! I'm the picture of good behavior." And then, under her breath, "Especially compared to you."

"Do you think so?" he chuckled.

"I sometimes wonder what good a spanking might have achieved when you were a little boy," she said, turning her head to look at him.

"See, that's the problem with Gallifreyan social structure. Discipline is genetically instilled, never by the hands of authority figures. It's not _my _fault if my genetics were a bit... different."

She rolled her eyes. "I somehow doubt genetics has anything to do with your, shall we say, risky behavior. In fact, I'd be quite surprised to find out that they factored in at all." She smirked as she turned and leaned in a bit, until they were nose to nose, then finished with a pointed, "Time Lord."

He didn't step back, or loosen his hands from around her waist. "I'm fairly certain you'd be wrong," he answered with a low voice and a knowing smile. "Though I have certainly found new meaning in the great divide between me and my people since meeting you."

"Oh? And how's that?"

Finally, he moved one hand from her hip, around to the front of her body and slowly upward toward the high neckline of her dress. Layer upon layer upon layer separated his hand from her skin, but the touch was intimate nonetheless, perhaps even more so for the fact that this dress was never meant to be caressed that way by a man's hands.

"You're a bad influence on me, Charley," he teased.

"Is that so? I would think it's the other way around."

"You're the one with the history of being turned over Daddy's knee."

She felt the blush start at her toes and quickly travel up her body as she shifted. "Yes, well," her voice was higher, tighter as she stammered for a moment. "That was a long time ago. Long before I met you."

"Not that long." He smirked. "I'm seven hundred years young in this body alone. How many years has it been since you stood in this room, digging your toes into the carpet while you tried to think of something clever to say that might lessen your punishment?"

"I..."

She could tell by the way his eyes lit up that he was enjoying her blush immensely. It made her brow furrow into a glare.

"I don't know," she finally answered, as defiantly as she could manage. "I was with you for... I don't even know how long. And then with the Viryans for a very long time. Then there was all the running."

"Long enough, then." He smiled darkly. "Or maybe too long?"

"Too long?"

The hand still on her hip moved down, following the crease of her thigh from memory alone, since he certainly couldn't feel it beneath the layers of petticoats and skirts.

"What do you mean?"

Cheek to cheek, he nuzzled her gently. She could hear his smile as he whispered into her ear. "Should I turn you over my knee, Charley? I still have a bit of a score to settle with you after that episode in the Tardis..."

Her breath caught. But suddenly, before she had a chance to reply, the heavy doors to the study swung open. Gasping in shock, she looked up with wide eyes as one of the servants stepped into the room. But as if he had known, or had somehow heard the footsteps approaching, the Doctor had already turned to stand beside her, roaming hands instantly, innocently at his sides.

"Oh, there you are, Miss. Sir." The unfamiliar maid smiled politely at them both.

Eyes still wide, Charley took a couple steps away from the Doctor, hands nervously smoothing out her skirts. "I..." she stammered. "We... That is..."

If the maid noticed the bright flush in Charley's cheeks or the way she was struggling to regain her composure, she graciously didn't mention it. And the Doctor, for his part, was the perfect picture of calm control, waiting expectantly for whatever announcement she had come to deliver.

"Your mother wished me to tell you that tea will be served in twenty minutes."

"Thank you," the Doctor answered confidently. "We look forward to it. Don't we, Charley?"

He turned to glance at her, and she caught another glimpse of just how much he was enjoying her squirming. Teeth clenched, she both smiled and tried to burn him with her glare before turning back toward the maid. "Yes, of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

The maid nodded, and curtseyed politely as she stepped back, closing the doors behind her. The smile on the Doctor's face turned to Charley. "Well, that settles that," he said lightly. "Tea in twenty minutes, then; what do you suppose we're having?"

She spun on him, fists clenched at her sides. "Oooh, I could just slap you!"

"Now now, Charley, that's not a very ladylike attitude. Besides..." He reached up and touched her hair lightly. "You might mess up your hair."

"Mess up...?" She batted his hand away. "I'll mess your hair up!"

He took a step back, smiling innocently, hands raised - though whether in surrender or defense she wasn't entirely sure. "Now what good would come of that? Then we'll _both _be arriving for tea looking a mess."

She stalked toward him a couple of steps, teeth gritted as she seethed. "You're not just impossible, you're positively infuriating!"

He grabbed her wrists as she came within range and in one smooth movement, had her pinned to the wall beside the window, wrists fixed above her head by his strong grip. But his expression was just as casual as ever. "I've heard that before, too."

Her chest heaved as she glared at him, struggling against his grip. Knowing full well she'd never get out of it, she finally stopped with a huff and a defiant pout. "Hmpf."

He chuckled, still holding her tightly against the wall. "You know, I never quite realized how attractive you are when you're flustered."

"I'm not flustered. I'm annoyed. There's a difference."

"I should annoy you more often."

She cocked an eyebrow, futilely struggling again before an evil grin formed as she glanced down. "You do realize that, right now, my hands are the least of your worries?"

He raised a brow in answer. "I could bend you over the desk, if you'd prefer. Or..." He transferred both of her wrists to a one handed grip and quickly reached to the curtain, flicking it free from the tie. He was smiling as he held the soft rope up, inches from her face. "I could 'exercise some restraint'."

Her eyes flicked first to her father's desk, and then to the rope. "Yes, I suppose you could." There was a smirk on her lips as she looked back at him again. "But we do have tea in less than twenty minutes. And we certainly don't want another incident like this morning."

"That's not going to happen."

"You sound very sure of that."

He was watching her with that spark in his bright blue eyes that always had a way of turning her insides to mush. Smoothly, he raised the tie and draped it over her hands, lightly around her wrists. "I'll even let you choose," he whispered.

"Choose?"

"How would you like to experience this, Charley?" he teased. "Should I tie your hands? Or are you going to behave yourself?"

"We don't have that kind of time, Doctor."

"We'll make time," he said confidently. "Because either way..." he leaned closer, pressing his lips to her ear as he whispered, "I have a score to settle with you from this morning. But if you're a _very _good girl, I'll let you put your undergarments back on before we sit down to tea with your mother."

She stared at him for a moment as he pulled away, trying to determine just how serious he was. He was playing. There was a teasing glint in his eyes, and laughter just under the surface of his seductive threat. But that didn't mean he wouldn't carry it out. Intrigued, she licked her lips as she considered her response.

"What...?" Her voice was too close to a whimper and she cleared her throat before she tried again. "What would you do to me after you tied my hands?"

"Anything I wanted."

Leaving the tie hanging loosely around her wrists, he moved his now-free hand to her hip again, pulling her tight against him in a way that arched her back awkwardly. He was holding her weight, and if he let go, she would stumble, if not outright fall.

"Would you take me over your knee?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Would you want me to do?"

She laughed tightly. "You don't really expect me to answer that."

"Of course I do."

"Doctor..." She shifted slightly at the uncomfortably intense heat that pooled between her legs when he used that dark, seductive voice. Almost without thought, she turned her head to kiss his neck, tasting the salt on his skin.

He laughed softly. Slowly, firmly, he trailed his hand from her wrist all the way down her arm. He nuzzled her gently, encouraging her kisses as his hands roamed - less modestly now than a few moments ago. "I get the impression that there's more to this fantasy than you're letting on."

She pulled back to look at him curiously, nervously. This wasn't the time or place for a conversation like this. For one thing, any number of people could walk through that door at any moment. One of the maids already had done...

"It's not a fantasy," she clarified. "I've never really even thought about it until just now."

"And that means it doesn't count?" he asked with interest. "Because you haven't spent hours and hours in the dark, thinking about it?"

She smirked back at him. "There are very few things I've spent hours in the dark thinking about. And most of them are only after the fact."

He grinned, stepped back, and pulled out the desk chair, sitting down comfortably as he studied her with amusement. "Then maybe I should give you something new to think about."

Tipping her head slightly, she lowered her arms, shaking off the loose rope. "What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean?"

"I think you're forgetting tea in a few minutes."

"Of course not. We'll just have to make this brief."

She watched him for a moment, and smirked slightly. He wasn't serious; he couldn't possibly be insinuating what she thought he was. Not that he wasn't capable; she had learned a long time ago not to underestimate what he was capable of both in and out of bed. But they hardly had time, here and now, to play such games. She had lost track of the minutes (she was sure he hadn't) but she knew they were passing quickly. Still, she was never one to back down from a challenge.

"You're going to have to remove a few of those layers," he informed her, watching her with the full expectation of her compliance.

She raised a brow. "You really think we have time for -"

"We have thirteen minutes and fifty-two seconds, and you're wasting them."

Hesitating only a moment more, she finally took a couple steps toward him. "You're not going to help me?" she teased lightly. "I can't do it myself."

His eyes ran over her slowly, head to toe. He knew she could undo the buttons on the back of her dress. But the way his eyes lingered on her waist made her wonder if he'd meant her dress at all.

"Come here," he directed her. "Turn around."

A smile quirked at the corners of her mouth as she obeyed. She'd already lost track of the time, but he would be keeping it, she was sure. He was teasing her, and she deserved it; she knew she did. But if he wasn't careful, he was going to end up teasing himself just as much, and she knew it.

He reached up, and his fingers ran slowly down the long line of buttons on her back. But he didn't unfasten them. She wasn't surprised; she hadn't expected him to do. Instead, he leaned forward, and the chair squeaked loudly as he reached down, lifted her skirts, and slid his hands up her legs, all the way to her waist.

She bit her lip as she glanced at the door, shifting, both from his touch and from the anxiety of knowing that it was very likely it could open at any moment, with or without a knock. Most likely, it would be without. Nobody but the maid who'd already interrupted them knew that anyone was in here at all. Nobody would knock if they were simply checking rooms. But instead of filling her with fear, the thought of being caught only gave her a fluttering, tightening feeling in her chest. It made her heart race, and heightened her senses as she listened for footsteps, watched him and watched the door just as intently, out of the corner of her eye.

He moved painstakingly slow, as if completely unaware of the minutes that were ticking by. In her mind, they were racing as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her tap pants and pulled, ever so gently, lowering them down her legs.

"How likely do you suppose it is that they'll send someone looking for us if we don't show up to the table?"

"Very..." She cleared her throat as she realized that her voice was little more than a squeak. "Very likely. Mother does expect promptness from her children and guests."

He tapped her feet, one at a time, drawing the pants down until they were on the floor and she was naked beneath the long skirts.

"Well, in that case, we'd really better hurry."

He stood abruptly, leaving the pants on the floor, and with a firm grip, took hold of Charley and turned her towards the desk. She barely had a chance to gasp before he had her bent forward, his weight pressed against her side. "It wouldn't do for her to see you like this, now would it?"

Startled, her mind raced with visions of him holding her down this way and taking her from behind. The sounds of pleasure as he thrust into her drawing her mother. The horrified look on Mumma's face when she walked in on them. "Doctor, what are you doing?" she finally managed, breathless.

His voice was full of debate and consideration when he answered. "Well, you see, Charley, I _could _take you over my knee..."

She gasped as his hand, still under her skirts, slowly moved up, baring more and more of her skin to the cool air in the room until he finally pushed them up onto her back. Carefully, he nudged her feet apart.

"But we _are _on a tight schedule and if I'm going to appeal to the secret fantasies of a very naughty girl..."

The second gasp was louder as he plunged his fingers inside of the heat between her legs.

"She's in a much better position to thank me when it's over if she's bent over the desk with her legs spread wide than if she's lying across my lap."

Her breath caught. "Doctor..."

"Eleven minutes, twenty-three seconds."

"It'll take ten minutes to get to the dining room."

"Then I guess we're going to be late."

"I wasn't serious about... about that!"

"Are you sure?" His fingers lightly traced her lower lips, spreading the abundant wetness in small circles. "You seem rather excited."

She laughed tensely as his fingers withdrew from her depths and a warm hand smoothed over her bottom, down to the crease of her thigh. "I..."

"Tell me to stop, Charley," he whispered low, enticingly. His fingers teased the soft wetness between her legs again. "Just tell me to stop, and I will."

She hesitated a moment, chewing her lip, fingernails raking the top of the desk as her breathing tightened, shallower and quieter. "No," she managed weakly, knees trembling in the unfamiliar, exposing position. "No, don't stop. But..."

"But?" he prodded when she didn't continue.

Her mind was swimming, body tense and ready, hips pushing back against his hand instinctively as he teased her.

"If you're going to..."

She swallowed hard. Could she even say that? It had been a long time since she had felt embarrassed or anxious about the private games they played. All of the things they'd done - some of them wildly fun and others that ended in laughable failure - should've made this easy. Instead, she could feel her cheeks burning as she bit her lip.

"Someone will hear us."

The Doctor leaned down until his lips were against her ear. "Charley," he whispered in that low, seductive voice that made her insides tingle. "Do you really think I would ever do anything to sabotage your dignity in front of your family?"

She swallowed hard, and shook her head slightly. "No," she admitted.

"Trust me, Charley. I'm very good at getting away with things I shouldn't be able to do." She felt him smile as she relaxed slightly, and he nudged her feet further apart with one of his. "But if you want me to stop - if you _really _want me to stop - all you have to do is say so."

Her breathing quickened. His hand was massaging gently, exploring, leaving her to feel the vulnerability of her position. She couldn't reach him, to return his caress. She couldn't think of anything other than how she must look, bent over her father's desk, shifting slightly from one foot to the other. His scent alone drove her half crazy, and having him this close was dizzying. She wasn't surprised he was teasing her - torturing her - after what she'd done to him in the Tardis. What did surprise her was how much she was enjoying it. Briefly, she wondered what it said about her that she could feel the fluids flowing between her legs as the picture painted itself in her mind. Had she ever felt so naked?

"Don't stop," she whispered softly.

As he pulled away, leaving one hand on her lower back to hold her in place, she felt another wave of mind-numbing hormones pulse through her. She was defenseless, completely exposed and utterly compromised. Any sense of control she'd possessed over her life - even over her own body - was suddenly and completely gone, if only for a moment. She lost track of the countdown - even though her sense of time was certainly more warped than his - but she couldn't quite forget about her surroundings. Not that she wanted to do. This room itself did a great deal to make her feel powerless, and the Doctor's familiar hand on her reminded her that right now, she was totally reliant on him for her pleasure and her protection. With a thrilling fear that somehow seemed to make her even more excited, she realized that he could do anything to her in that moment, and there was nothing in place to protect her from him.

Completely vulnerable, she waited. He let her wait. He caressed her softly, from the small of her back all the way down to her thigh. Between the overwhelming sense of helplessness and the agonizing anticipation, she began to squirm, shifting to try and relieve some of the pressure between her legs.

"Stay still," he ordered firmly.

She immediately froze at his command, shutting her eyes hard. God, this was torture. He stroked her slowly, all the way down the back of her thighs... up again...

"Do you want this, Charley?" He paused, but not long enough for her to answer. "Ask me for it."

The sigh of pleasure as he slid his fingers between her thighs turned to a groan of frustration as she realized he was not moving close enough to her sex to relieve the need that was building there. It was a tease, nothing more. His talented fingers only built up the pressure; they didn't relieve it. Her heart rate and breathing were rapidly increasing. She needed him. Desperately, she needed to feel something of him. _Anything_.

"Please," she whispered. She felt no shame now, only burning desire. "Doctor, please..."

The first slap of his hand on her bottom was not particularly hard, but it was deafeningly loud in the silence of the room. She gasped in surprise, tensing up completely. She slowly relaxed again as he left his hand on her warming skin, rubbing lightly. Then he raised his hand and brought it down again in another, harder slap. She flinched at the sound of it, gasping for breath, nails scraping the desktop.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, sounding genuinely uncertain for the first time.

"No," she whispered, arching her back and lifting her hips towards his hand. She wasn't a masochist, but he wasn't really hurting her. Instead, the sting was sensitizing. It was making her thoughts scatter in all directions, and the vulnerability was unlike anything she could have imagined. Dizzy, overwhelmed by the pleasure of something she'd never even considered would feel so good, she clawed at the desk. "Doctor, don't stop."

In the moments that followed, she completely lost track of time, of the sounds she had been so intently focused on in the hallway, of the loud echoes in the room as his hand fell with varying intensity, slowly building until her skin was flaming hot. She tried to be quiet, but as the firmness increased so did the noises escaping from her - noises that fell dead center between need and fulfillment. Her anticipation built with every stroke, as did the heat and stinging. Never hard enough to push her to tears, but never so light as to be considered anything other than what it was.

Finally, his hand came to rest and remained there, very still. She listened to the sound of her own ragged breathing - shuddering, desperate gasps. His hand slid down to her thighs and between them as he whispered a quiet, gentle, "Open."

She complied, spreading her legs further apart, not sure when they'd come together over the course of the past few... minutes? She had no idea how long she'd been like this. She was dizzy and a bit confused by all the hormones and endorphins flooding her brain, making rational thought seem more like a dream than the fantasies that were playing out in her mind. She wanted him. She wanted him to throw her to the floor and take her, make love to her for hours. She wanted his hands and his mouth and she wanted the full, stretched feeling when he buried himself to the hilt inside of her.

"Do you have any idea how good you smell, Charley?" he whispered in his darkest bedroom voice. "All of those hot pheromones... that salty, human scent of _you_..."

Her toes curled and nails dug into the desk as she nodded, a whimper escaping her throat. She couldn't talk. She could barely breathe, and not just because he had her pressed against the desk. He drew the soft lobe of her ear between his teeth, pulling gently as he smoothed his hand down to the crease of her thigh, tracing it inward until he found the soft hairs hidden between her legs.

He waited for her to draw a breath in before he thrust his fingers into her heat, pushing so hard and so suddenly, it jolted her forward, into the desk she was leaning on. She groaned, eyes rolling back before they closed, and his teeth bit down just enough to remind her of just how close he was.

"Can you hear the footsteps, Charley?"

She tried to listen, but she couldn't hear anything over the sound of her pulse thrumming loudly in her ears. God, the power he had over her was exquisite! The only reply she could give was a small shake of her head, gasping has his fingers plunged in even deeper.

"Can you hear your mother walking, so innocently, towards this room..."

"Please," Charley moaned softly. "Doctor, please..."

"While you're bent over your father's desk, bottom red, skirts around your waist, begging to come on my fingers?"

She sucked in a breath, her legs trembling. "Oh, please..."

She turned her face into the desk, panting, moaning. She was so close; he knew it. She barely contained the scream that tried to escape as he sped up, thrusting his fingers harder into her. Again. Then again. He buried his face in her neck and breathed deep.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are right now?"

She heard the footsteps. She wasn't sure if he'd really heard them first, or if it was just his innate sense of twenty minutes - to the second - that matched her mother's punctuality. Either way, the door was already opening before he withdrew his hand and flipped her skirt down in one smooth motion, leaving her still lying across the desk as her mother opened the door.

Reality came back in a fearsome rush as Charley saw her mother standing there, blinking at them in surprise and confusion. She stood quickly - too quickly, really - and would've probably fallen over backwards from the head rush if not for the Doctor's steadying hand on the small of her back.

"Is everything alright?" Mumma asked with obvious concern.

Charley wobbled slightly as she tried to smooth out her hair and skirts, knowing full well her face was flushed and probably had imprints from where it had been pressed against papers. She could barely contain her ragged breathing. "I... uh..."

Finally, as her mother frowned, Charley plastered a smile on her face. "Everything's fine, Mumma. I just..." She thought fast. "I dropped something. Is it time for tea?"

"Yes." Mumma eyed them warily. "Five minutes past. I thought perhaps you hadn't been informed."

The Doctor stood by innocently, glancing to Charley with a smile. He could've taken over and redirected her mother's attention at any moment; he was good at that. Instead he let Charley flounder under the scrutinizing gaze.

"Yes." Charley cleared her throat to try and bring her voice - to say nothing of her breathing - back to normal. "Yes, we were informed. We were just... talking. We lost track of time." Continuing to nervously smooth her skirt, she turned to look at the Doctor, eyes pleading. "Isn't that right, darling?"

He turned his smile to the matron of the house and nodded. "Yes, we'll be right there. Very sorry; I hope we haven't kept you waiting."

The woman eyed him for a moment as well, but dared say nothing to a guest that could be misconstrued as impolite. Instead, she smiled back, nodded, and turned to walk back down the hall, leaving the door open. The Doctor watched her go, then turned to face Charley with that mischievous glitter in his eyes. She tried to ignore it as she took a few deep breaths, then bent to retrieve her pants from the floor. But the Doctor put a foot on them, pinning them to the floor, and waited until she looked up at him in confusion to speak.

"I think you should leave those off."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Consider it part of your punishment."

"We can't just leave them there!" Charley cried. "What if a maid finds them?"

"Then I think you'd be considerably more lucky than if your father finds them."

She stood again, not sure what to say, and faced him. Her bottom was still stinging. So was his hand, she was sure, if the redness was any indication. With a wicked smile, he raised his fingers, still wet with her fluids. He let her see them before he touched them to her lips gently. She swallowed hard before she drew his fingers into her mouth, wrapping her tongue around them as she sucked her essence off of them. It reminded her all over again of the burn between her legs, and she shifted, rubbing her thighs together to try and alleviate some of the need.

He leaned forward and kissed her firmly, then licked his lips as he withdrew, tasting the remnant of her. Eyes locked on hers, he brought his still-damp fingers to his own mouth and sucked the last of her taste off of them. Her thoughts briefly lingered on his tongue, and where she wanted it, and what he could do with it when he put it there. She found herself glaring at him as that burning need for touch - from the slick heat dripping down her thighs to the stinging sensation on her behind that she wanted to rub away - reasserted itself in the forefront of her mind.

Finally, he smiled and offered her his hand, palm up. "Shall we?"

Pushing down her thoughts - how long would it take to shove him back into that desk chair and straddle him, open door or no? - she set a fake smile on her lips and took his still-warm hand before glancing down again at her pants and kicking them under the desk, out of plain view. He smiled, but said nothing as he watched her straighten her skirts and her hair one last time.

Finally, she turned to him and smiled brightly. "Well," she said as casually as she could manage. It was good practice, since she was almost certainly going to have to carry on conversation at tea. "We mustn't keep them waiting any longer."

He offered his arm this time, and she hooked hers through it.

"I will get even with you, Doctor."

"And I will smell you all throughout afternoon tea," he whispered into her ear as they exited the study. "I consider it well worth the cost."


	4. Closet

**4*CLOSET*4**

The Doctor had found the task of endearing himself to Charley's mother to be no trouble at all. Even her light questioning at afternoon tea - understandable curiosity about how she'd escaped the flames of the R-101 - had not caught him off guard. In a way, he was glad those answers had already been hammered out when her father had cornered him in the study - the very same study where he could still faintly smell the scent of Charley's arousal.

"How did you meet my daughter?"

His eyes shifted just briefly to the floor under the desk as the man sat down behind it. He had no idea what was under - or at least very near - his feet, the Doctor was sure.

"We met at a library, in London. She had only a few hours before she was meant to catch the R-101, but she allowed me to escort her to dinner and, well, we sort of lost track of time."

Charley's father was clearly used to being in a position of authority, and if there was one thing the Doctor couldn't stand, it was being on display before an authority figure. His strength in handling this sort of interrogation had always lie - at least in his current incarnation - in the fact that he really didn't care what "the authority figure" in any given situation thought of him. The Time Lords had put him on display more than once - on trial, even - and he no longer cared whether they believed him or not, whether they respected him or not. Any other authority had no real authority at all, only a perceived one. And the Doctor handled interrogation in either case with a certain amount of sarcasm and abundant ridicule. But he couldn't do that in this case. In this instance and for Charley's sake, he _did _care what Lord Pollard thought.

"What sort of employment do you have?"

"I'm a doctor of science. My degree is in thermodynamics, specifically."

"And what do you do with it?"

"Mostly, I go where I'm needed."

"Freelance?"

"Yes."

"Not exactly a secure source of income."

"I have a substantial amount of money saved if the work should ever dry up for a spell. And if it does, it's never for long."

He was the kind of man who thought himself to be in charge even when he was not. The Doctor knew the type; he dealt with them on an almost-daily basis. Every power-crazed dictator or military commander fit that description. Every person who had ever ordered his death - and there were certainly dozens of those. It was pointless to challenge their authority, even if he knew just how small and laughable their demonstrations of power actually were. It was best just to play along, to play his hand as if he truly respected them - even feared them. But even in that, this man was different.

"You own a home?"

"A small estate. Though I don't spend much time there. Charley and I prefer to travel, to see the wonders of the world. It's also proven very educational for Julia. She's been exposed to a wide variety of cultural experiences and she's not yet five years old."

Lord Richard Pollard did not expect to be flattered; that much was clear from the start. He would not respect a man who offered flattery instead of honesty. Nor would he accept non-answers and dodged questions. It was better to answer his questions up front and with conviction, even if they were complete and utter lies.

In truth, the Doctor fully recognized the situation for what it was: a father wanting to make sure that the man her daughter had chosen would do the right thing and take proper care of her. With that in mind, he didn't really _want _to lie. But he couldn't exactly tell him the truth. That was a luxury he most certainly did not have.

"I'm very pleased to see that my daughter is happy," Lord Pollard finally concluded, eyeing the Doctor carefully as he passed his judgment. "I trust that you will continue to take good care of her."

The Doctor smiled. "I make a point of it every day."

In the end, the words he had chosen had all been relatively easy lies to spin. He was well aware of the proper customs of the English upper-crust, and he had been fully aware of what to expect from her family - both from her own warnings and his knowledge of the period. Still, while his _competence _as a liar was not in question, he didn't like doing it. He was certainly not a _comfortable _liar.

When he was finally released from the study, he was not surprised to realize how tense he was. His mind was racing, filled with the stories he'd woven about his past and his plans for the future. It was more than simply playing a role. He'd never felt such pressure in adopting a character even when his life had depended on it. And he knew it wasn't over yet. Dinner would be soon to follow - with Charley's mother and sister, who was coming over for a reunion that he was sure would be full of many of the same questions.

He was waiting when Charley passed by, no doubt returning from her own interrogation by her mother. They needed to get their stories straight. But more than that, he needed to relieve some of the tension that was building in his shoulders. Affording only a quick glance to make sure she was alone, he grabbed her by the arm as she passed and pulled her, none-too-gently, into the side hallway. She had just a moment to see who had grabbed her before he pulled her into one of the rooms and closed the door. At least, he'd thought it was a room when he'd opened the door. Actually, it was a large closet, he realized once they were plunged into darkness.

"Um... Doctor?" Charley asked tensely. "Why are we in a cupboard?"

He fumbled for a light before remembering that he was unlikely to find one hanging overhead in a house this old during this era. Giving up, he slid his arms around her waist in the cramped space. Touching her was more comforting than seeing her, anyway. "Because it's one place in this house where no one else is wandering about?"

She chuckled, and placed her hands on his chest. Well, first on his face, then on his chest once she figured out exactly where he was. "Have you seen the size of this house?" she asked. "There are plenty of rooms - rooms with light, I might add - that are empty."

"I didn't want to go looking for one. Besides, this is cozy, isn't it?"

"Mmm... quite."

"Is your father a military man, by chance?"

"A long time ago. Before I was born. Why do you ask?"

"He interrogates like a true professional."

She laughed quietly. "Well, I'm sure having three daughters gave him plenty of practice."

Dropping his head, the Doctor kissed the side of her neck, nuzzling against her. It was as far as he had planned; he'd only wanted to hold her for a moment, breathe her scent and kiss her skin and not worry about being seen. But given the way she moaned and ground into him, he suddenly wondered if she didn't have considerably more in mind. His eyes widened slightly as he felt her hands exploring. No, not exploring. They were most definitely on a mission.

"Charley..."

But she was kissing him hungrily before he had a chance to continue. He groaned softly, and pulled away from the kiss before she was ready to let it close. Her hands didn't stop, sliding under his jacket and tracing along the waistband of his slacks. He let her fingers roam until they unfastened the front of his slacks. Then he closed his hands over her wrists.

"That's a bad idea, Charley," he warned with a smirk that he knew she couldn't see in the darkness.

"Really?" she challenged. "I thought it was _your _idea, pulling me in here like this."

She stretched out her icy fingers to touch sensitive skin and he gasped as he reflexively pulled her hands away, up to his mouth where he could breathe on them. "Charley, your hands are _freezing_."

"So warm them up."

She leaned forward again, trapping their arms between them, and kissed the side of his neck. His eyes - useless in the dark anyway - slid closed as he let out a deep, involuntary sigh. She smelled good. She felt even better.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to get through afternoon tea?" she challenged.

He smiled knowingly.

"And she _knows _something was going on in there. She kept trying to ask without being rude."

He breathed in deep, setting warm kisses along her jaw, back to the soft pressure point behind her ear. "What difference does it make?" he whispered.

"Doctor, she's my _mother_!"

He leaned back to breathe on her cold fingers again, and nearly lost his balance in the confined space. The foot he moved behind him to regain it kicked over a bucket, and he very nearly toppled over with it. He let go of her hands to steady himself on the walls, and she immediately reached down to his groin again. A low groan escaped him as she slid her hands - thankfully, a little warmer now - inside of his pants and cupped him.

"My father and sister are going to be there at dinner," she continued.

"Mmm hmm?"

"Five minutes, you said," she whispered into his ear, stroking slowly. "In the Tardis. Remember?"

He could already feel his body reacting as she pressed her hips forward, trapping her hands between them, rubbing against him.

"As I recall, that incident in the Tardis didn't end well," he reminded her. "What makes you think we have any more guarantee of privacy in a closet?"

"You certainly thought so, when you pulled me in here."

"Enough to kiss you," he corrected. "To give us both a moment to reset and to get our stories straight. But not..."

He trailed off into a moan as she stroked him slowly, from base to tip, bringing him to fullness as she pressed both thumbs against his head and massaged. He tried one last time to pull her hands away, but he never actually got that far. As soon as his fingers touched her skin, they were running up her arms. He gave up the battle and simply kissed along her jaw. He was already hard. That wasn't going to go away easily. Especially not when she was kissing and licking and massaging him.

"Careful Charley," he warned as he felt her nails scrape along his chest in an effort to touch the skin beneath his shirt. "If you rip my clothes, it'll be very hard to hide."

She pulled back, and met his eyes in the dim light coming through the crack under the door. He kissed her deeply, drawing in her scent as she ground against him. He was suddenly painfully aware of just how restricted his movement was in this small space. He wasn't stupid enough to put her up against the door, but the other walls were covered in shelves holding who-knows-what. There had to be a way to do this...

His arms circled her, pulling her in tight as she reached down and lifted her skirts. It was helpful, at least, that there was nothing underneath them. He raised her up... but hadn't given himself enough room to get a strong enough stance. Balance compromised, he toppled back, intothe shelving unit, pulling her with him and landing against the wooden shelves with a deafening crash.

Charley's breath caught. The Doctor froze. He knew perfectly well that someone could've easily heard that. Any second now, that door was going to fly open and they'd be completely exposed, half-naked and in a _very _compromising position. Holding his breath without realizing it, he waited. She didn't move. They watched the door in the dark. After a few seconds, no knock or key turn or sound of footsteps, he slowly relaxed and let himself breathe again. Suddenly it occurred to him that he had no idea how he was going to get himself out of the mess of shelving and... cleaning supplies? That was his best guess for what was in here.

"You okay?" she whispered.

The position was rather uncomfortable, in spite of the fact that he could feel her heat against the tip of his shaft. He swallowed, and nodded, remembering only belatedly that it was too dark for her to see him. "Bruised, I suspect, but nothing a hot shower won't cure."

He was still trying to regain his bearings when he felt her settle, pressing down and encasing him in her warmth. He groaned. "Oh, Charley..."

He wasn't sure if he wanted her to stop, or if the moan was one of appreciation. She felt incredible - burning hot and wet and tight. He adjusted a hand behind him for support, easing the pressure against his back, and used the other to circle her waist. He could only hope that none of the cleaning supplies were _on_ him. He smelled ammonia... and prayed it hadn't spilled onto his clothes. But that thought vanished as he felt her hands in his hair, holding his head for balance as she rocked slowly.

His eyes slid closed, his body throbbing in time with her movements back and forth over him. He didn't care that he was half-lying on very uncomfortable, broken shelves. The heat inside her body was so intense, it drowned all feelings of discomfort and worry. He moaned softly, and felt his hips begin to thrust against her, slowly at first and then building. He couldn't move too much or he'd be knocking more things over... and he was going to have bruises in some very interesting places.

And he didn't care in the least.  
>The muscles in his shoulders, his legs, his abdomen, all began to tense with the thrusts of his hips upward. She was rocking back and forth, trying not to make too much noise in the tiny, uncomfortable, cramped space. But the sound of their labored breathing seemed to echo. And with no ventilation, he could already feel the lightheadedness from the lack of oxygen. Hot, sweaty, gasping...<p>

He moved his hand from her waist and grabbed onto her arm, pulling her down over him. His lips met hers and he kissed her hard, his tongue probing deeply into her mouth as he thrust up inside of her as deeply as he could. She squealed. He smiled. Beautiful. The feel of her lips against his, the sound of her breathing, that faint perfume mixed with the scent of sex and sweat... and ammonia. He ignored that part, concentrating on nothing but her.

She groaned into the kiss, grinding against him as she braced herself against the floor. She was close; he could feel it. She pulled away and bent down to attack his neck again, grinding against him.

"Doctor... please... I need -"

The sound of the footsteps alerted him, but he was trapped. There was nothing he could do to turn or shift or stand or make this look like anything other than what it was. And even if there had been, he didn't have time. He didn't even have time to whisper a warning to Charley before the door opened, blinding them with bright light from the hallway.

Charley gasped and nearly fell over in her haste to get away, but he held her hips tightly. Her skirts were the only thing keeping the fact that his pants were around his thighs from being in plain view.

"Margaret!" Charley gasped/laughed as her eyes adjusted to the light. She pushed a hand through her messy hair, trying to hide the way it was sticking to her forehead with sweat. "I... Hello! Uh... We were just... That is, um..."

"Hi," Margaret finally said. Her eyes were on the Doctor, brows raised in amusement. He didn't even try to move as her gaze raked him and she smirked. "I'm Charley's sister. And you must be the Doctor that Pappa was talking about."

He couldn't remember the last time, in all of his lives, that the only response he had to offer was a nervous laugh.


	5. Dinner

**5*DINNER*5**

Dinner was set formally, as usual. Charley found herself grateful for the fact that she didn't have to brief the Doctor on family or period customs. He understood the setup, and the formality, and he knew how to blend in. With a confident smile, he carefully pulled Charley's chair out for her, and cast a glance at Julia as she bounded in, releasing the hand of the woman leading her the instant she saw her parents. Her wide eyed excitement spoke for itself, and Charley raised a finger to her lips to instruct her to be quiet before she blurted out all of the exciting news she had to share.

Beaming with excitement, she skipped to the table and Charley helped her to get situated, placing her napkin across her lap and taking away the silverware that she'd already reached for. "Leave it alone, Julia," she instructed quietly. "The silverware are not toys."

The warning didn't keep the little girl from beating her two forks together. "But they make music, Mum!"

"Julia, dear, listen to your mother," Mumma chastised. Charley's gaze flickered to her in time to see her smile when the little girl put down her new toys. "That's a good girl."

Margaret entered the room with a smile, and a lingering gaze at Charley. "Nice to see you again, Charley."

Her tone was so sweet it was sickening. She had a secret, and she knew full well how to use it to her advantage if she chose to do. Charley could only hope that she had long outgrown the rivalry of their earlier years. Returning her smile, a look of warning flashed in Charley's eyes. "And you, Margaret. How very lovely it is you could join us at such short notice."

If she noticed the warning at all, Maggie seemed to have no reaction. Her smile remained in place as she kissed her mother's cheek - apparently she'd not said hello since arriving - then smiled and waved her fingers at Julia as she sat down.

"Oh, it's no trouble," she said casually. "I don't live far, and I was positively thrilled at the opportunity to hear all about your adventures."

Smile still plastered firmly on her face, Charley shifted in her seat, trying to relieve even a modicum of the ache between her legs. She was determined not to let on about her discomfort, but she could already tell this was going to be ten times worse than afternoon tea.

Tucking her hands neatly under the table, Margaret turned a raking - but still smiling - gaze to the Doctor. "I take it this is the gentleman we have to thank for your... extended absence?"

"Yes, I'm the Doctor," he answered for himself, much more confidently now than when he'd been trapped on the floor of a broom closet. Still, the tension was radiating from him. Charley hoped it wasn't as obvious to everyone else in the room as it was to her. "Pleasure to meet you."

"My husband," Charley clarified tightly, sweetly. "Doctor, this is my eldest sister, Margaret."

He smiled, though it didn't seem as easy as it normally came, and nodded.

Maggie's brows raised, curious. She glanced at the door just briefly as Pappa finally entered the room and seated himself at the head of the table. "Doctor of what, exactly?" she finally asked. "Must be a hell of a degree if you don't even bother to use your name anymore."

"Language, Margaret," Mumma warned sternly.

"I'm a doctor of science," he answered. "It all intrigues me."

"What have you been up to, Margaret?" Charley interrupted, redirecting the conversation.

Margaret smiled back. "Oh, I've been... around. Nothing so exciting as running away and getting married." She glanced at Julia, who was subtly poking at the table cloth with her butter knife. "Your daughter is very sweet. How old is she?"

"Thank you. She's-" Glancing at Julia, Charley's eyes went wide as she swiped away the knife. "Julia, no! I told you they're not toys."

Julia scowled, but let the knife go as Charley looked around, trying to find her _something_ to play with. She had never considered that it would one day actually be important that Julia had proper table manners. Finally, Charley settled on a spoon she was fairly certain she wasn't going to use and handed it to her. "No noise," she warned. "And if you must play at the table, at least play with something that can't damage you or Gramumma's lovely table cloth."

"I wasn't damaging it."

Charley nodded to her mother. "Sorry, Mumma, she's not used to having knives at the table."

Before she could return to Margaret's question, the Doctor squeezed her hand gently and answered for her. "She's four."

"And every bit her mother's daughter," Mumma chuckled, clearly charmed.

It was only a matter of moments before the food was brought. Charley smiled to herself. The kitchen hands must have been working at breakneck speed from the moment they'd arrived to prepare all of this. It was as near to a feast as she'd ever been served, a celebration of her return.

It had been a long time since she'd sat at this table. But it was all just the way she remembered it. Plates were set, grace was said - she was pleased to note that the Doctor could feign a working knowledge of Catholic custom as well as the next person, even if Julia certainly could not - and the usual pleasantries were exchanged about the exquisite taste of the food and the beautiful decor in the dining room.

Charley shifted in her seat again, glancing up slightly as she sipped her soup to make sure no one noticed just how much she'd been fidgeting. She was more than aware of her complete lack of underpants and her face flushed as the memory of _why_ she wasn't wearing them crossed her mind. All of the confidence and determination she had felt in the safety of the dark closet had fled, leaving her with a lingering sense of embarrassment and exposure. Her hand shook slightly as she laid her soup spoon down and picked up her wine glass, taking a rather large drink to try to calm herself.

Setting the glass back down, she tried to focus on her soup, but almost choked on it as the Doctor slid his hand onto her knee. Carefully, she put her free hand on his and removed it, placing it firmly in his lap. But it didn't stay there. He put it right back on her knee and began slowly, methodically massaging her leg, moving up one infuriating inch at a time. Face warming, her free hand clenched the napkin in her lap as she held in a groan that so desperately wanted to escape.

"So, how'd you two meet?" Margaret asked.

The question was directed pointedly at Charley, and the Doctor glanced at her, letting her take charge of the response. But before she had a chance to reply, she saw Julia lift her tall glass of water with one hand. She gave a quick gasp as she lunged for it, stopping the entire glass from ending up in her plate. It took a moment for the heat of the near-miss to wash over her and subside.

"Both hands, Julia," she instructed, breathing a sigh of relief. Then she looked back up at Maggie. "I'm sorry, what was the question?"

"We met in London," the Doctor answered for her, mercifully giving her a moment to regain her thoughts. "In a library, the day she was to board the R-101. We shared a very pleasant dinner and she decided to stay."

Margaret raised a brow. "You live in London, then?"

"Um... no," Charley answered haltingly. "Not exactly."

"So what caused the two of you to disappear off the face of the earth for six years?" Mumma asked. "I might have expected as much if you'd somehow found yourself lost in a foreign country, but if you were right here this whole time..."

"Well, we weren't exactly here the _whole _time," Charley replied, casting a quick gaze at Julia, who was playing eenie-meenie-minie-mo to determine which fork she preferred to use for her next bite. "We decided to do a bit of traveling."

"It's that fork right there, dear," Mumma instructed Julia. "No, not that one, the one to the right of it. There you are!"

"Some quite fantastic traveling based on what the Doctor was telling me earlier," Pappa added.

The Doctor smiled. "I get bored quite easily, staying in one place."

Charley smiled fondly as she shot him a grateful look. "We both do, really. Part of the reason I wanted to stow away on the R-101 was because I had become bored here." She looked to her mother. "Not that I am not very grateful for the life you and Pappa gave me, but I needed more."

"So you traveled and then got married and had your daughter?" Maggie prodded. As far as she was concerned, the little girl might as well not have been sitting at the table - whether good or poorly mannered. "Seems an odd way of doing things. How do you raise a child without a place to call home?"

"Margaret! Don't be rude," Mumma chastised. "Clearly they have done a fine job of raising her. What does it matter whether or not they have a permanent home?"

Charley opened her mouth to add her own explanation, but was interrupted by her mother's attentions to Julia. "No, dear, you don't need a knife for that."

"Julia!" Charley cried, taking away _her _knife that had somehow ended up in her daughter's hands.

"Charlotte, perhaps you should move the knives out of her reach. I would hate for her to cause herself harm."

Charley sighed, gave Julia a glare, and put her knife on the wrong side of her plate to keep it away from the little girl's reach.

"But you do have a home _now_, don't you?" Pappa asked. "In... Gallifrey, is that correct?"

Charley glanced up as the Doctor hesitated for just a beat. Yet another little white lie in order to reassure Charley's father that she and Julia would forever be well taken care of. The moment's pause was enough to give Margaret a chance to add, "Where is that, exactly?"

Charley watched him as he took a sip of wine, curious what he'd told her father. She drew in a breath and held it, but not out of fear of what explanation he would give. When he'd paused to think, the hand he had in her lap - which had worked its way all the way up and slowly slid between her legs over top of all the skirts - had also stopped. His fingers were so close yet so far from her heat it was painful. She barely contained the whimper that tried to escape when he flexed them as he responded to the question.

"Ireland," he answered confidently. "It's a... small estate, but we don't really spend much time there."

Swallowing and releasing the breath she'd been holding, she directed her attention to her mother. "Mumma, I've been wondering. You've barely mentioned Sissy all day. Where is she?"

Margaret shifted noticeably, her smile falling for the first time all night. Mumma paused, mid-bite, casting a quick glance toward her husband. Charley waited, not sure what sort of Pandora's box she had just opened.

Finishing the bite, Mumma finally picked up her napkin and delicately dabbed her mouth. "Cecelia, yes, well..." She trailed off, replacing her napkin and taking a large drink of wine. "We haven't heard from her in quite some time; at least a couple of months."

"Is that unusual?" the Doctor asked. "For her, I mean."

Louisa smiled tightly. "Unfortunately, no. I'm afraid Charlotte is not the only one to have a penchant for disappearing for long periods of time."

Charley and the Doctor exchanged identical, raised brow glances before looking back toward Louisa. "I do hope she's okay," Charley said.

The concern was answered with a hard tone from Margaret. "She's just fine. She simply has a new set of priorities now. And a new set of friends."

Charley didn't really have a chance to consider those words fully because suddenly, she was more than a little distracted by the fact that her daughter had disappeared. "Julia?" She ducked her head under the table. "Julia? Where are you?"

Suddenly, she felt a hand much smaller than the Doctor's on her knee. Beside her, the Doctor pushed himself back and lifted the tablecloth to peek down at her, making her way to the other end of the table.

"Julia!"

With great effort, and much to Pappa's surprise, Julia climbed up his legs and into his lap. Taking a moment to brush her hair out of her face, she beamed up at him. "Hi!"

Charley's eyes grew even wider, mortified. "Julia! What do you think you're doing?"

Startled, to say the least, it took the man a moment to find his voice. "I say... Hello there." Thankfully, he finished with a laugh rather than a look of disgust, and Charley let out a tired sigh of relief.

Mumma chuckled. "My, such a precocious child."

Margaret grinned as well. "Just like her mother. And no doubt the sort of child who can get herself lost in a closet if what's inside was intriguing enough."

Charley's eyes grew wide again and she squeaked as the Doctor's hand tightened on her thigh, doing his level best not to choke on his wine. Forcing a smile, she turned her gaze on Margaret, hoping with all her might she was properly conveying just how much she hated her right then with every fiber of her being.

"Of course she's curious," she answered sweetly. "What four-year-old isn't?"

Dinner seemed to last longer than any meal Charley had ever sat down to eat. The food kept coming and with it, the conversation. Eventually, Julia grew very tired of being seen and not heard, and ran from the room at such a pace that the maid at the door was unable to catch her. Charley got up to follow, but in the end it was the maid who brought her back - with a crudely colored picture in hand that she was overly enthusiastic about showing to her grandfather. Clearly, he hadn't the slightest idea what he was looking at, though Charley recognized the sticks and circles of a crudely drawn console room. Julia's attempts to explain her picture were met with the smiles of completely oblivious but approving grandparents.

By the time dessert came around, Charley was counting the seconds that were ticking on the clock, each one bringing her closer to the end of this ordeal. She had enjoyed seeing her family again - immensely, in fact. But at the moment her thoughts were very much distracted by the subtle shifting of the man beside her, and the fact that she knew his thoughts were running parallel to hers as he absently picked at his cake. It was a bit of a walk back to the Tardis, and they would have to get Julia to bed once they got there. After that, she wasn't even sure they'd make it all the way to the bed before her patience ran out. She wanted to touch him, and she wanted his hands on her, and more than anything she wanted him to relieve this ache between her thighs that he himself had put there.

And then, finally, dinner was over.

"I assume you had Sasha tidy Charley's old room," Margaret prompted as the dishes were carried away. "The spare room right beside it should do nicely for Julia."

"Oh, no," Charley's eyes grew wide and she gave a tight, nervous laugh. "We couldn't possibly stay. We've already put such a burden on you, showing up suddenly like this."

Her mother's laugh was far more relaxed, and confident. "Nonsense! I'll not have you heading off now; it's already almost dark!"

Charley gritted her teeth as the Doctor's hand slid up and down her leg again before resting at the apex, fingers pressing in slightly. This was torture and there was no way in hell she was going to relieve it in her old room. She swallowed and shook her head.

"Thank you, Mumma, for everything, but we really must be getting back. We don't have any clothes here and-"

She was cut off by her mother placing her hands on the table, standing, and leveling a very familiar firm gaze on her. "Charlotte Elspeth Pollard, I only just got you back after thinking you dead for six years. I will _not_ have you leaving at this late hour."

Charley blinked, startled both by her mother's insistence and by the way she quite instantly felt the need to say, 'Yes, mumma' and go to her room with her tail between her legs.

"If your concern is bedclothes and something clean to wear tomorrow, I'm certain we can find something in this house for you to wear. Have I made myself clear?"

Speechless, Charley was quite relieved when the Doctor spoke up. "Lady Pollard, we would be honored to continue in your hospitality. However, we would at least need to fetch my medication if we are to stay." He tapped his chest and glanced at her father. "Bit of a heart problem, I'm afraid. Nothing serious, but I don't like to tempt fate."

Charley let out a sigh of relief. Thank God for the Doctor's quick thinking. "Yes, we... weren't planning on staying," she stammered. "We've made other arrangements and... we have a train to catch in the morning."

"Well, I could take you to get your medication," Margaret offered with an all-too-polite smile. "Julia needn't go; she can go to bed."

"If you're traveling tomorrow, it would be best for her to have a good night's sleep," Mumma added.

"You can drop me off and bring my car back on the way to the train station tomorrow."

"Splendid idea!"

Charley stared at Maggie for a moment - she had a _car_? - and thencast a look at the Doctor, begging for another one of those quick ideas. "We're actually... in the other direction," he struggled. It wasn't as convincing as the first lie, and was met with raised brows and a horribly amused look from Margaret.

"The other direction from town?" she challenged with a smirk.

"Old friend of mine," the Doctor answered quickly.

"Well how were you planning on getting there?" Pappa questioned. "Surely you weren't planning to walk at this time of night; it's not safe."

"Or decent," Mumma added. "If you won't ride with Maggie, then you'll just have to take our vehicle."

Charley laughed tightly. "Oh, Mumma, we -"

"Alright," the Doctor interrupted, sliding a hand to the small of Charley's back. She looked up at him, startled, and he glanced at her. "I see no reason why we can't go get my medication and come back. Then we'll leave tomorrow, first thing, as we'd planned."

"Come along, Julia," Mumma said, confident that the argument had been settled. With a smile, she extended a hand to the little girl perched once again on her grandfather's knee. "I'll personally show you to your room."

Stifling a yawn, Julia climbed down. "'Kay." As she was about to take the proffered hand, she changed her mind and ran around the table, hugging people in turn. "Night, Mum. Night, Dad. Night, Granddad. Night, Auntie Margit."

Having bid everyone a good night, the little girl took Mumma's hand and allowed her to lead her away. This time, it was Charley's turn to be left with nothing to offer but a tight, nervous laugh.


	6. Automobile

**6*AUTOMOBILE*6**

"It's been a while since I've driven one of these," the Doctor muttered under his breath as he pushed down the clutch and started the 1930 Austin 12, then shifted through the gears to see how tight they were. It had been a _long _while, in fact.

Charley closed the door on the passenger side and settled into the puffy red leather seat. "I still can't believe my sister managed to afford an automobile," she muttered. "She's not even married!"

"Maybe it was a gift."

"It was undoubtedly a gift. I just can't imagine who from."

The Doctor ignored her for a moment as he gently pressed the gas, wincing at the jerk in the transmission as he pulled away. Lending a vehicle in this era, when ownership of automobiles was still not exactly common, was almost unheard of. This particular vehicle was not cheap. He was frankly amazed by the amount of trust he had engendered from Charley's father and he didn't want to cause the man undue stress by bouncing and jerking and jolting his way out of the horseshoe, gravel drive.

Once he was out on the road, and out of view of the house, he relaxed significantly. Charley scooted over, getting as close to him as she could without impeding his ability to shift and turned toward him. Now the only problem was that the car was entirely unnecessary, and he was going to have to find a place to park it while they walked to the Tardis, which was somewhere in the woods. The thought suddenly occurred to him that _finding _the Tardis in the dark was liable to be an adventure in and of itself.

He didn't notice that Charley had slid a hand between his legs until she cupped him, massaging through his trousers. He groaned, his lips parting to drag in a full breath as he felt her hot tongue running up his neck, along his jaw. She traced the lobe of his ear before pulling it between her teeth, breath burning against his cheek.

"I hope you plan on taking a long time to find your 'medication,'" she whispered. "Because there is no way we're going back there before I've come around you at least twice."

The Doctor swallowed hard, trying to keep his eyes on the road. "If you make me crash your father's car, Charley, we're going to have a problem."

She undid the clasp on his trousers and slid her hand in, stroking slowly. "Oh, come on, Doctor," she teased, her voice the picture of a pout. "You've had to maneuver the Tardis through much worse. Surely you can handle a minor distraction like my hand around your cock while you drive."

He pushed his hips up toward her hand involuntarily, feeling the blood drain from his head and rush to his groin. Laughing, she laid a slow, hot, wet trail of kisses down his neck, nipping less than gently just above the collar of his shirt. He could feel his hearts beating faster, his entire body falling into sync with her hand as she increased her rhythm, grip tightening as she ran her thumb over his wet tip.

This wasn't going to work. He needed a place to pull the car over before he ran it into a ditch.

As she worked her free hand into his hair and dragged her nails across his scalp, he considered his options. There were no cars on the road - no headlights in either direction. He hadn't seen or passed any since they'd left the Pollard estate. At the moment, he was more willing to take his chances with a passing vehicle than try to guess how far he would have to go before he finally managed to find a secluded driveway.

Her nails, her mouth, her breath, and the sheer amount of pheromones in the car were enough to make his mouth dry and his pulse pound in his ears. And all of that was to say nothing of the hand that was slowly pumping him. Gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, he pulled the car into the grass on the side of the road, wrenched the keys in the ignition, and turned to grip the woman beside him, twisting a hand into her hair as he claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss.

Met with his sudden aggression, it took her a few seconds to regain her bearings and respond, plunging her tongue into his mouth, nails digging into his scalp as her hand clenched in his hair. Never breaking the kiss or her hold on his shaft, she twisted until she was on her knees next to him. Then she pulled away, panting for breath.

Her eyes met his in the moonlight, dark with lust and need, as she released him. She held his gaze as she grabbed her skirts and hiked them around her waist before moving to straddle him. Still holding her hair, he gripped her thigh with his other hand, and pushed as far up towards her hip as he could go as he lifted his hips. But there was a steering wheel in the way. She was too high, on her knees, and trying to pull her down only jammed her knee into the panel of the door.

He growled in frustration as he quickly realized this wasn't going to work. Especially not with the steering wheel jamming into her back and pushing her so tight against him that she had no room to maneuver. He jerked her head down and to the side, biting at her neck and silently cursing the dress that was so much in the way. The taste of the salt on her skin was nearly enough to set him on fire.

"Move. Off." He was already shoving her back towards the passenger seat, keeping one hand in her hair and the other on her back to push her forward onto her knees.

Quickly lifting and turning to comply, she cursed as she hit her head on the roof and got her dress tangled in the shifter. None too gracefully, she fell forward onto the passenger seat, bumping her head again on the door. He held the back of the seat with one hand as the other remained on her back while he struggled to maneuver his way out from under the steering wheel.

She shot a glare at him over her shoulder. "I'm not sure this is any better," she muttered, clearly irritated.

"It's a step in the right direction," he answered through gritted teeth.

His legs were getting in the way, trapped between the wheel and the door and the seat. Ignoring the bruises he knew he was creating, he pushed himself up and wrenched his legs under him. Finally on his knees, he bent over her, burying his face in her hair and locking his teeth around the soft flesh of her neck as he put a hand over hers on the seat, then the window crank, then the ledge, trying to find a grip for balance and support.

Her skirts were in the way. And the high collar of this damn dress was no better. Frustration building, still not quite steady, he used his one free hand to try and push her skirts up and unfasten the buttons along her back at the same time. Reaching an arm around, she tried to help with the buttons while still balancing herself - and him on top of her - with her other arm. She failed miserably. After the third attempt, she growled as she got both hands under her and pushed up.

"Off!"

He sat up, and focused his attention on the buttons as she sat up in front of him. His instinct screamed to simply rip them apart, but he gave at least half of an effort to actually unfastening them before he growled impatiently, took hold of either side of the fabric, and pulled, revealing more layers of clothing underneath. He groaned, and in that moment, everything inside of him ached.

She turned to face him, peeling the grey dress down her arms before she jammed her heel into the floorboard, gripped his shoulders, and tried to mount him again. She might have actually succeeded if she could've bent her leg around the shifter. But when she did, she lost her balance and fell into him. His elbow hit the steering wheel hard. His head hit the driver's side door. One of them hit the horn, and it blared loudly as she grabbed the front of his shirt in her fist and kissed him hard.

He was immobilized, legs trapped under him, bent back, his erection pressed painfully into her hipbone and separated from the warmth of her skin by any number of layers still in place. He didn't even have his hands; they were being used to grip on either side and keep the weight of both of them off his neck against the door. And between the steering wheel, the shifter, and all of the clothes tangling in every damn thing, her position was no better.

She sat up, pulling the dress off over her head. A scream of frustration emitted from the mess of fabric as her hands smacked the roof. She twisted every way possible trying to get the damn thing off. Cursing, she turned in his general direction and he could almost hear the raised brow in her voice. "Bit of help, please?"

He couldn't help but laugh as the absolute absurdity of this scene briefly occurred to him. But his amusement didn't last long. Mostly because he had other things to think about. Like just how badly he wanted to be inside of her right now.

He leaned forward, trying to separate the dress from the petticoats beneath it so that she didn't smother trying to get so much over her head at once. Finally, she emerged from beneath the grey fabric and he wrapped the dress around his arms a few times before pitching the wadded ball into the backseat. His hands immediately found her hips again as he twisted around to kiss her lips, moaning at the warmth that seemed to radiate from her now that her top layer was gone. She returned the kiss in earnest as her hands flew to his tie, divesting him of it quickly before starting on the buttons of his shirt. Growling, she came to the same conclusion he had with her dress and just ripped it open. She dragged her nails across his stomach and up his chest before firmly planting her hands on his shoulders and pushing back, never breaking the kiss.

He managed to get his legs out from underneath him and stretch them across the two seats, underneath her. But there wasn't much room for him to lean back. And as he reached behind him, never pulling away from her kiss, to steady himself, he gripped what he thought was the window crank and instead turned out to be the door handle. The support from his arm very suddenly gave out as the door flew open and he very nearly crashed to the ground. She gave a shout of alarm as she flailed, hands finally finding purchase on the seat and steering wheel. Only his death grip on the handle and the other hand that had flown up to grab the back of the seat supported him - and her leaning over him.

Chest heaving, she stared at him for a moment before finding her voice. "Right. So. This isn't going to work, either."

It took him a few tries before he was able to shift his weight in a way that gave him enough leverage to pull himself back up. Casting about, she seemed to make a decision as she sat back up on her knees, turned, and using the seat as leverage, pushed herself over and into the backseat. Tumbling over in a flurry of skirts, she eventually popped back up, smiling as she blew her hair out of her face.

"Plenty of room back here!"

He sighed as he slid off the seat, put his feet on the ground, and steadied himself on wobbly legs before he shut the front, opened the back, and crawled back into the car with her. The temperature was distinctly warmer inside than out, and as he closed the door behind him again, he noticed the windows were a bit steamed. That wasn't surprising. His head swimming with adrenaline and hormones and frustration and need, he looked out the front and back of the car to make sure that the next diversion wouldn't be the lights of a police car coming to see if they were alright. With the way his luck seemed to be going tonight, he wouldn't be surprised.

Charley's hand on his cheek drew his eyes back to her. He couldn't see her very clearly in the dark, but he knew that she was smiling, undeterred by the continual interruptions. "You okay?"

He nodded, dropping his head forward slightly. He was fine. But the idea of having sex in this car was losing its appeal. He was frustrated, and just waiting for the next thing that would go wrong.

She leaned in close and nuzzled him gently, their lips just barely brushing as she fingered the edge of his shirt lightly with her other hand. "Touch me," she whispered.

"We should go back to the Tardis." It was safer there. They might actually have a prayer of finishing what they started...

"Touch me, Doctor."

He sighed, and raised his eyes to hers again as she teased his mouth with hers, inviting his kiss. Finally, he responded, kissing her slowly as he set a hand on her hip, over the petticoat and skirts still between them. The hand on his chest moved down to slowly stroke him again, but it took longer for his body to respond this time. He still wanted her. But like Pavlov's dogs, he was becoming conditioned to expect that this was not going to end well.

"Relax," she whispered into his ear. Her hand slid down the back of his head to his neck and massaged lightly, matching the rhythm of her other hand as she methodically moved from base to tip and back again. "You've waited all day for this."

He didn't answer her. With a soft sigh, she released him and rested her hand on his bare stomach. She kissed him softly again before cupping his cheek, running her thumb over his nose, cheek, and mouth. "_I've _waited all day for this," she continued. "You've made me wait for you."

He smiled faintly at the memory - the smell of her throughout afternoon tea, the knowledge of just how much she wanted him.

"All day long," she whispered. "So hot and wet and ready and you've teased me knowing I couldn't do anything about it."

Her fingers came to a stop under his chin, and she tipped his eyes up to hers again. "Is it time for me to tease you now?" she whispered with a playful look he could just barely see in the dim light.

Her hand inched down his stomach, nails dragging dully. She shifted in her seat, turning so her breasts, barely covered now in her camisole, pressed against his arm and bare chest. "Ever since this morning, I've wanted to taste you in my mouth." Her wandering hand made its way back to his length, fingers ghosting along it, barely touching. "Hot... wet... salty... Wanted to wrap my tongue around your cock, slide my lips up it and suckle the tip."

He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as he let his mind wander over her words and the visions they created.

"I've wanted you _all _day, Doctor. I barely got a taste of you this morning. And it wasn't enough..."

Drawing in a deep breath, he caught a fresh wave of pheromones - her scent, thick and hot in the confined space. Feeling his heart rate increase just slightly, he pressed his hips toward her hand as he turned his head and kissed her lips - lightly at first and then firmer, deeper.

He watched her as she smiled in the dark, and moved down to his throat, his collarbone, his chest. With hands on his shoulders, she pushed him back, and he let himself be led, leaning against the seat. There was plenty of room back here - enough width for them to lie on the floor side by side if they wanted. It was easy for him to maneuver himself up onto the seat and into the corner as she spread his knees apart and settled between them.

Hooking her fingers under his waistband, she pulled his already-loosened slacks down, and he lifted his hips to help her. Without a sound, she slid his pants all the way down to his ankles, then ran her hands back up the insides of his legs, parting his thighs as she leaned forward and let her hair lightly brush his shaft. The cooler air and the tickle of her hair sensitized him; her soft hands on the insides of his thighs reminded him of just how much hotter her body was than his own. His eyes rolled back as she bent to kiss the very end of his shaft, then ran the tip of her tongue up the underside of his length, swirling once to lick up the fluids that were seeping from him before engulfing him in her mouth.

He groaned, low and needful, as he slid a hand into her hair. So warm... so wet... He was fully hard again in an instant, and the rush left him dizzy and disoriented. Resting his head back against the wall behind him, he drew in a few slow, deep breaths as he stroked her hair gently, encouraging her. She moved slowly at first, adjusting to his taste, his fullness. The warmth and wetness of her mouth was unbelievably satisfying. He took a long moment to enjoy it, eyes closed, feeling every muscle in his shoulders and back relax slowly.

Gradually, her speed increased, one of her hands moving to stroke what she couldn't take in. Her tongue wrapped around his shaft, caressing, massaging. His fingers stroked her hair slowly, careful not to grip her head. He just wanted to touch her, wanted to feel her in every way possible as she sent jolts of pleasure surging along his nerves.

Shifting, she positioned herself so she could take him fully into her mouth, sliding down slowly until she reached the base. As she moved back up, her tongue pressed into his length, along the vein, feeling it throb. When she reached the tip, she swirled her tongue around it once, tasting him before withdrawing and placing a slow, wet kiss on it. She continued the kisses up his stomach and chest, running the tip of her tongue up the scar in the middle, to his neck. Pressing herself into him, she nipped, licked, and suckled her way to his mouth, claiming it in a deep, slow kiss.

He groaned, low and needful, and his fist tightened in her hair for a moment as he kissed her. He could feel the rhythmic throb in his pulse, the pattern his hips wanted to follow. Fully hard, fully engaged, and suddenly aware of nothing but her, he released her hair and moved both hands to her arms, turning and pushing her back onto the seat beside him. Never breaking the kiss, he braced himself on the back of the seat with one arm, and reached down to push up her skirts with the other.

She wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him in as her hips thrust up, wanting - needing - to get closer, to complete the circuit. One hand grasped the edge of the seat, providing her better leverage as the other worked its way into his hair, tugging, a needy whimper escaping through their unbroken kiss. Kneeling on the floor, he was perfectly aligned with her entrance, and he cupped her breast with his hand as he continued upward, kneading and pulling as their bodies synced together, teasing at her entrance.

He finally withdrew from the kiss, heaving deep lungfuls of air, and watched her eyes in the dark as he slowly, purposefully pressed deep inside of her. A groan of satisfaction escaped him as her heat burned along his nerves, searing him with a complete and utter awareness of her.

Her eyes rolled back and hand clenched tighter in his hair as she released a grateful sigh that turned into a laugh. Moaning, she bit her bottom lip as she rocked against him, the leg wrapped around him pressing tighter, keeping him close. Drawing in a deep breath, he pushed himself up, using the roof for balance until he was able to sit up straighter on his knees. Still watching her, he wedged his hands under her thighs and pulled them apart, lifting her legs over his shoulders. Her eyes flew open and breath caught as the new sensation sent a tremor through her. The new and unfamiliar angle made him gasp with pleasure as he slid so deeply inside of her he actually felt himself touch bottom.

She shifted forward slightly, hands grasping the back of the seat as she arched into him, breaths coming in short pants that matched the rhythm they'd set. He shut his eyes hard as he felt the pace increase, as if on its own. It was natural, rhythmic, perfect. He groaned, moving his hands back to the seat for support as he felt his body clench and tighten, and moaned her name as he felt his control slipping through his fingers. She gave a low moan that morphed into a strained whine through clenched teeth as her walls began to spasm. Her knees hooked over his shoulders, pulling her closer as her thrusts became harder and more erratic.

He could hardly breathe, barely think. But the sounds she made forced his eyes open, and he looked down at her as he held the seat with a white-knuckle grip. Her hair wild and sticking to her forehead, sweat streaming over her chest and neck, eyes shut hard as she approached release, spasming around him. "You are so beautiful..."

It was all he could manage before he hit the furthest edge of his endurance and crashed into pleasure with such force it made his whole body shake and spasm and thrust as he drove into her, deeper and deeper, over and over.

She clawed at the seat, eyes clamped tight as she turned her face into her arm, groans coming between gulps of air. Her muscles were impossibly tight around him, head thrown back as she screamed in pleasure. The scream turned into a relieved laugh as she came down, relaxing, chest heaving. He smiled at the beautiful sound of her laughter, and ducked out from underneath her legs, letting them fall limply on either side of him as he dropped his weight forward and buried his face in her neck.

He kissed her pulse point gently, tongue tracing the line of sweat that trickled beside his lips. "That was worth it," he whispered.

She continued to chuckle as her arms fell lifeless over his shoulders. "Yes," she breathed back, her voice weak and disoriented. "It was."


	7. Bedroom

**7*BEDROOM*7**

"Nobody has been in here since you left," Mumma said as she opened the door to the room Charley had once called her own. "We couldn't bring ourselves to clear it out. If you'd prefer, there is a second guest room that we could have made up instead. I'm certain would be less dusty."

"This is fine, Mumma," Charley said with a tight smile. But even as she said the words, she wasn't sure why she was trying to reassure her mother that she _wanted_ to stay in this room. Not that it was an unpleasant room, with its large, overstuffed bed and canopy, the enormous wooden wardrobe, the bay window with the alcove that she had hidden herself in for countless hours with her nose in a book. But it was so full of memories...

"I had Sasha tidy up a bit, so the dust shouldn't be unbearable." Mumma was flustered with the quick clean up, her scrutinizing gaze moving over everything that might not be up to par. "I know she washed the linens and the bed curtains as well, but I'm fairly certain the windows haven't been cleaned."

Charley smiled to herself. If only her mother knew the conditions she had lived in - off and on - for the past ten years of her life. No matter how dusty and dirty this room was, it would never compare to the filth of the Grybon brothels, where she'd sought shelter from prying eyes and threatening glances.

"Mumma, it's fine. We've stayed in much worse, I promise you."

For just a moment, Mumma looked entirely perplexed.

"You've already done so much for us already," the Doctor interrupted, noticing the look on her face. "I think we can handle dirty windows."

"Yes," Charley agreed. "Most certainly."

Mumma looked at her for a moment, then smiled softly, reaching up to cup her face in both hands with a heartfelt sigh. "My little girl. Married and grown up with a daughter of her own."

Startled by the display of sentimentality, Charley didn't know what to say. Her mother had always been so proper, so disapproving - at least on the outside - of everything Charley had stood for. It was strange to see her, face to face, displaying such affection. But just as quickly as the softness had passed into her eyes, it faded. She composed herself with a deep breath, and cast a polite smile to the Doctor.

"I bid you both good night. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call."

"Good night, Mumma," Charley answered with a polite smile.

"Yes, good night."

Charley watched silently, her posture as relaxed as she could manage, as her mother exited the room and softly closed the doors behind her. Then, finally, she allowed herself to heave a sigh, and pushed her hand back through her hair, fidgeting nervously with the ends. Her fingers stayed busy, twisting and pulling, as she looked around the room. It was just one more place she never in a million years thought she'd ever be again.

She took a few steps forward and ran her hand lightly over the nearby desk, absently flipping through the pages of a long-forgotten book. Finally, she took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, turning to face the Doctor.

"Well, what do you think?"

He smiled knowingly. "It's a lot more elegant than the room I grew up in." He walked to the window and peered out through the "dirty" glass at the dark sky and all its stars. "A lot more spacious, too."

"Hmm." She cast about again. Spacious though it seemed, she remembered full well how stifled and cramped she'd felt here. Her thoughts wandered through her childhood, around her sisters, and then to dinner.

"I wonder what all that was about with Sissy," she muttered. "I do hope she's alright."

"Seemed like there was a bit of a falling out over her new friends." The Doctor stepped back from the window and glanced at Charley briefly before wandering to the bookshelf. "1935, the rise of Mussolini and Hitler... The Nazi party had sympathizers all over the continent. If I had to guess..."

Charley's eyes grew wide. He let the implication hang heavy in the air as he pulled one of the books down and carefully brushed the dust off of the cover before opening it and flipping through the pages.

"Surely you're not suggesting that Cecelia is a Nazi sympathizer!"

The Doctor shrugged, not willing to argue a point that was mere speculation on his part. Especially when he didn't even know the woman in question.

"She would never do something so... so..." She was at a loss for words. Nothing in her immediate vocabulary seemed to describe just how _wrong _even the idea of her sister being that type of person was.

"Remember, Charley, it doesn't mean the same thing to her that it might mean to you." He glanced up briefly. "You know how the story ends. But in 1935, the concept of the Holocaust would have been so much paranoia."

"Still..." Charley frowned deeply.

Setting the book back on the shelf, the Doctor crossed to her and slid fluidly behind her, arms encircling her waist. She sighed as she instinctively leaned back into him, absently covering his arms with her own. She tilted her head into his.

"Although, now that I think about it, she did always seem to have quite the different outlook on the world. I had just assumed it was the follies of youth at the time."

"Well, if that is the way she chose, perhaps she'll change her mind."

"Perhaps..."

He nudged her hair out of the way before setting a light, closed kiss on her neck, just above the high collar of her dress. Moving his hands to her waist, he tipped his head to pull the lobe of her ear gently between his teeth.

"But we Pollard women are stubborn, you know that better than most. Once we get an idea in our head, we tend to stick to it, even if it is completely assinine."

"Hmm."

Charley hugged herself a bit as she continued contemplating the possibility of her sister being a Nazi. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Belatedly, she realized the Doctor was still talking, and she hadn't a clue what it was he'd said.

"Hmm? I'm sorry, Doctor. I was in my own little world there. Did you say something?"

He chuckled softly, and moved his hands closer together at her back, running his thumbs slowly up either side of her spine, and either side of the row of buttons. "I said..." He nudged at the soft pressure point behind her ear, toying with the buttons at her neckline until he flicked the top few open. "I think it's time to get you out of these clothes."

"Oh." She frowned. "Yes, I suppose so. I'd forgotten just how cumbersome they are."

"I haven't."

"Hmm."

Absently, she reached behind her to start undoing buttons, surprised to find a few were already undone. She didn't give it much thought. Twisting her arm like a skilled contortionist, she continued with the line of buttons, taking a few steps away as her mind wandered further down the path of where her sister might be and why.

"I wonder where she is, then," she muttered to herself. "I do hope she's not in Berlin. She'll get herself killed!"

She shrugged the dress off of her shoulders to reveal the princess petticoat underneath. Then, stepping out of the dress as it fell, she began working on the ties of the first of several skirts. She was vaguely aware of the Doctor's eyes on her as she removed one, let it fall, and started on the other. Sighing to herself, she wondered just what had possessed her to wear so much clothing! Once, a very long time ago, she had considered this normal.

She stopped, surprised to find herself in front of the window. Frowning, she looked about her and the trail of skirts she'd left. She really shouldn't leave them lying about in a rumpled mess. Then she looked down and found she was down to her silk chemise and last petticoat. Normally, she would still have tap pants underneath that, but she remembered vividly where those were...

Suddenly noticing that the Doctor had gone silent, she turned to see him leaning on the desk, fully dressed and watching her with casual amusement. She raised a brow. "What?"

"I didn't say anything."

Suddenly very aware of how little she was wearing, she hugged herself as she turned toward him. She nodded toward her clothing. "Were you watching me the whole time I was doing... that?"

He smiled knowingly. "You didn't seem to mind."

"I didn't know!"

"Well, I wasn't exactly trying to hide it."

His smile grew as he pushed away from the desk and walked closer to her, trailing a hand from her elbow up to her shoulder as he slid behind her again, planting soft kisses on her jaw line once again. It was easier without the dress in the way. She hugged herself tighter.

"Doctor, what are you doing?"

"Kissing you," he whispered back. His hands had been at his sides, but they gravitated now to her waist.

"Here? Now?" She shifted anxiously. "My parents are just down the hall!"

"What difference does that make?"

"Quite a lot of difference, thank you!"

His warm kisses traveled up to her ear again, and he nuzzled her, breathing in deeply.

She sighed. "Doctor, they'll hear us."

"Well, you'll just have to make certain that they don't," he answered, not at all deterred.

She bit her lip, searching for a protest but finding nothing that she thought he might actually heed. He slid his hands forward, down along the crease of her thigh on either side, and she could feel his smile against her neck as he continued in a low whisper. "We've been playing this game all day long. They've never been far away."

"No," she agreed. "But at least there's some distance between the dining room and the study."

"And the closet?"

"Yes, the closet was also a fair distance from the dining room."

"And yet anyone could've walked through that hallway. You knew that."

"Doctor, this is different."

"Why?"

She hesitated. "Because it was my bedroom as a little girl!"

One hand moved down, pressing through the skirt at the apex of her thighs. "Well, close your eyes and you can pretend that it's the Tardis. Better yet..." Very suddenly, his wandering hands withdrew, and an instant later, the silk fabric of his tie slid across her forehead, then down over her eyes. Her breath caught as she suddenly became tremendously more aware of the sound and warmth of his breath in her ear. "I'll close them for you."

She swallowed hard, and raised her hands to tentatively feel the fabric across her eyes. "I...I don't think a blindfold is necessary," she stammered. "It is plenty dark in here."

"Of course it's not _necessary_, Charley. That's what makes it fun."

"Well, yes." She laughed tightly, nervously. His hands were roaming again, to her shoulders where he massaged firmly for a moment, as if willing her to relax. "I'm just concerned about being able to see where I'm going, is all. I'd really rather not bump into anything."

"I won't let you bump into anything. Besides..." He moved his hands to her waist and untied the last of her skirts, letting it fall in a heap at her feet. She sucked in a breath as cool air hit bare skin, making her muscles tighten. "I don't want you to walk anywhere."

She laughed quietly, relaxing under his touch as he smoothed his hands over her hips, then trailed his fingertips feather lightly up her arms, all the way to her shoulders. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I quite like you right here."

He pulled the straps of her undershirt down, exposing her breasts to the cool air and to his eyes. But he didn't take it off. He left the straps at her elbows as he neatly folded her arms across her stomach beneath his own embrace. Kissing her jaw, he pressed in until her head tipped to the side, then hummed his approval as he reached up and brushed her hair back, away from her face and the blindfold that so neatly covered her eyes.

"And I want you to stay just like this," he whispered softly.

Startled by the suggestion, she clenched her arms a bit tighter. "What? Why?"

He set one last kiss on the side of her neck before he withdrew the warmth of his body from behind her. "Because I want to look at you."

"I... Why?"

She stood still, waiting for him to answer, head tilted, arms folded, confused, and more than a little bit chilly. She frowned and turned her head slightly in the direction where she thought he was. "Doctor?"

Her ears strained, trying to hear him: his breath, the rustle of his coat, a creak of a floorboard from him taking a step. Nothing. It was as if he'd disappeared.

"Doctor, where are you?"

As she tried to turn, firm hands grasped her shoulders, holding her in place, and she gasped in startled surprise at how close he was. "Oh!"

"Shh..."

As his hands left her once more, she hugged herself slightly, ever more aware of where they were and her state of undress. But now, she was also intrigued. What was he up to?

"Stay still, Charley," he whispered. She heard his breath as he kissed below her ear, then stepped away. "Stay very, very still."

Then there was nothing.

Left standing in the center of a chilled room, naked from the waist down, chest bare, and with very little around her midsection, she did well for the first few minutes. She was incredibly aware of her nakedness, of his eyes on her in the silence. What was he doing? Surely he wasn't simply looking at her. There had to be a reason for this. Where was he? How long did he want her to stay like this?

It felt like she'd been standing there for hours before, finally, the combination of the cold, her nakedness, and simply not knowing where he was in relation to her made it impossible for her to stand so still. Senses heightened by her lack of sight, she felt every brush of cool air along the floor, smelled the dust and the flowers and the clean bed sheets, heard the wind rustling the trees outside. But there was no indication that the Doctor was even in the room until, suddenly, he spoke.

"You look cold."

She raised a brow, tilting her head to orient on his voice. "Well, someone has left me rather naked in the middle of a drafty room."

He chuckled softly, and she heard a few soft steps from somewhere near the bed. The rustle of fabric, a tiny scrape of the wooden desk chair on the wood floor. Finally, she caught the scent of him as he approached, and felt the warmth of his body as he stepped up behind her again, embracing her tightly with both arms and pulling her naked back to his warmth. He'd removed his jacket, and she could feel his body heat through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"Is that better?" he whispered.

She sighed and leaned into him. "Much." She turned her head toward him, pouting slightly. "Though my legs have gotten quite tired from standing here."

"Hmm." He turned her carefully toward him and hugged her tight again, rubbing his hands over her back as he kissed her lips. "Hold on to me."

He waited just a moment for her to comply before he bent down, swept an arm behind her knees, and lifted her. "Oh!" She tightened her grip on him. "Doctor, put me down; we're going to fall!"

It was only a few steps to the bed. Once there, he set her back on her feet before sitting down and pulling her onto his lap. She shook her head in disbelief. "I'm far too big for that, Doctor."

"That's your opinion. You're almost a foot shorter than I am."

"And probably just as heavy."

"And twice as self-conscious."

Her face flushed. "Not _that _self conscious," she said defensively. "You did just have me stand naked in the middle of a room while you ogled me for god-knows-how-long. I just don't want you to get hurt."

He was quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, his hand came to rest on her thigh, smoothing slowly up and then back down to her knee. It was a soothing touch rather than a sensual one. "Tell me something, Charley."

"Hmm?"

"Today, in the study... You weren't self conscious then..."

She smiled at the memory, and shifted a bit. "I think I was too excited to be self-conscious."

He hesitated for a long moment, his hand still stroking along the top of her leg. Finally, she heard him draw in a breath. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she answered softly, simply.

"If I had, would you have told me to stop?"

"You didn't."

His hand stopped stroking, coming to rest by her knee as he tipped his head toward her and kissed the lower edge of her blindfold. "I've never done anything like that before," he whispered.

"Me neither."

He was quiet again, his breath warm on her lips as he lingered just a few centimeters away. "Sometimes I think," he finally whispered, hesitating on his words, "that I'm becoming more and more like you with every day that we're together."

She laughed. "Like me? _You're _usually the one who instigates these... experiments."

"Exactly. That's what I mean."

"How is that like _me_?"

"Not you, specifically." He tipped his head, nuzzling her gently. "Being so aroused by something so... _not_-Gallifreyan... It's very..."

"Human?" she offered when he didn't finish.

He paused again. "I was going to say frightening."

Startled, she frowned. "Why frightening?"

"Because it's madness." He drew her earlobe between his teeth, pulling gently before he continued in a soft, breathy whisper. "Everything I felt in that moment... That I would do anything, anything at all, to give you pleasure..."

She was quiet for a moment, brow still furrowed. Hesitantly, she reached up a hand to stroke his hair. As he pulled back from her ear, she touched his lips lightly, tracing their outline with her thumb. "Did you enjoy it?" she whispered.

He kissed her fingers gently, then nuzzled against her hand. "I'm afraid to say yes."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to think of where that madness leads." He covered her hand with his. "And I don't want to think that I enjoyed hurting you."

Shifting to ensure her balance, she reached up with her free hand to pull the blindfold off of her eyes. Her gaze immediately locked on his, and she read the worry there even more clearly than it was written in his tone. With a soft, almost mothering sigh, she shook her head and dropped her forehead against his.

"You didn't hurt me," she said again, staring him straight in the eye.

"I know. I believe you."

"Then what's wrong with enjoying it?"

He hesitated a long moment, then sighed, moving a hand into her hair and stroking it back gently. Finally, he lowered his eyes and spoke in a quiet whisper, barely audible. "I had a friend once. A long time ago. He was Gallifreyan. And he was mad. He liked pain, humiliation - he liked to cause it. The things he would do to women - the things they _wanted _him to do... It was never about sex; that would've disgusted him. It was certainly never about love. It was just... wrong. And I swore I would never be like that."

She stared at him in confusion, brow furrowed as she shook her head. "If that's what you were thinking, why did you do it?"

"It wasn't what I was thinking," he answered quickly. "That's why it scares me, Charley."

"If it wasn't what you were thinking then, what changed? Because it was nothing like that between the two of us."

He opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out, and he closed it again, lowering his head and shaking it slightly. With a soft smile, she set her hands on either side of his face and tipped it up again, staring into his eyes for a moment before she leaned in and kissed him. He hesitated at first, but slowly, he responded, relaxing into her gentle stroking through his hair and the softness of her lips on his.

As she finally, slowly pulled away, she lingered close, tasting his breath and the warmth of his closeness. "Don't bring that man into our bedroom," she pleaded softly. "What you did to me - what you _do _to me - is beautiful. And you know it."

He smiled tightly. "It also goes against everything in my nature as a Time Lord."

"Then maybe you _are_ becoming more and more human by the day." She smiled back, and traced his lips again. "And maybe that's not a bad thing."


	8. Midnight

**8*MIDNIGHT*8**

The room was cooler than it had been when they'd first entered. It was cooler even than it had been when they'd slipped underneath the covers, silent and secure, relaxed in each other's arms. Charley had drifted into sleep easily, and he'd watched her for more than an hour, quietly stroking her back, then her stomach as she turned and spooned up against him. With a smile on his face, he'd settled into her hair and held her while she breathed slow and deep. Humans needed so much more sleep than he did, but he had grown accustomed to - even fond of - these hours of serene silence, simply holding her while she slept. It gave him time to think, and to appreciate everything about her.

It was after midnight when she stirred, turning back to him and tucking her head under his chin. He knew she was awake by the soft kiss she placed on his collarbone, and the way she snuggled closer to him.

"I hope Julia's not too cold," she whispered softly, her fingers lightly stroking his side.

"Hmm." He didn't want to wake her more with conversation. His thumb brushed lightly over the small of her back, a slow steady pattern to ease her back to sleep.

"I'm sure Mumma tucked her neatly under a pile of blankets," she continued, reaching up to brush her fingers lightly against his pulse point. "But knowing Julia, she probably found a way to build a fort out of them."

The Doctor tipped his head against hers and raised a hand into her hair, massaging gently. "Go back to sleep, Charley. I'll go check on her if you'd like."

She hummed, leaning into his touch. "I can't sleep."

"Why not?"

"It's just so strange being back here..."

"Mmm."

He watched her in the pale grey light filtering in through the window as her fingers traced the tie/blindfold still hanging loosely around her neck. Finally, her eyes opened and stared up at him lazily. "So what was the plan for this?"

"Plan?" he asked innocently. "There was no plan."

"You just wanted me to stand in the middle of the room, naked and blindfolded, for no particular reason?"

He smiled softly. "Plenty of reason. But no plan."

"What reason?"

He hesitated for a long moment, then withdrew from her, turning onto his back and reaching down to the floor beside the bed to pull the carefully rolled piece of paper from where he'd set it next to the bedside table. He sat up slightly, enough to light the candle on the table before handing her the paper.

"What is this?" she asked, clearly curious.

"For you."

She unrolled it carefully, which wasn't hard since it more or less unraveled in her hand. But her breath caught as her eyes scanned the pencil sketch inside. The lighting had been perfect - the shadows along the soft curve of her breast, the highlights in the hair hanging along the edge of her face. Chin to shoulder, hugging herself with her weight shifted to one side, she had looked both shy and confident at the same time, and it was a look he had wanted to immortalize. Vulnerable in her nakedness, and blinded by his tie across her eyes, yet strong and sure of herself.

"Is this really how you see me?"

"Well, I _was _trying to work fast, before you got too cold."

"No, it's..." She laughed briefly, shaking her head as she stared at the picture in awe. "It's beautiful."

He smiled as he settled beside her again. "So are you."

"No, I'm not," she answered with another tight laugh. "Not like this. She's... She's me but... she's perfect."

He raised a brow, and moved a bit closer to look at the picture himself. He hadn't gone out of his way to alter it in any way - to make her thinner or prettier or more or less of anything. From crown to waist, it was simply what he saw. But somehow, for the second time in one night, she was self-conscious again. It was strange to see - a nervousness that didn't suit her at all.

"Maybe you should put it back on."

She blinked, confused. "Put what back on?"

He reached up and traced his fingers lightly along the silk tie hanging around her neck. "It might help you sleep."

She laughed softly, adequately distracted from her anxiety. "How will it help me sleep?"

"Well..."

He sat up and moved closer, taking the picture from her hand and leaning over her to set it on the other bedside table before he guided her down, into the pillows.  
>"I can use it to find new and interesting ways of making love to you." He found her wrists, guiding her hands up to the pillow on either side of her head as he smiled down at her. "Sooner or later, I'll wear you out."<p>

"Or I'll wear _you _out," she answered smugly. "And that's assuming Mumma and Pappa don't hear."

"It's the middle of the night," he reminded her. "Besides... It's not as if they don't already know full well what a husband and wife do in a shared bed."

"Doctor!"

"What?" he asked innocently. "You're living proof of that."

She laughed as she shook her head, smiling up at him. "I think my mother would feel obligated to sit down and give me a nice long lecture about propriety if she thought for a moment that I actually enjoyed sex."

He smiled as he released one of her wrists and trailed his fingertips from her throat down between her breasts - a feather light touch that he contrasted with the firm pressure of his hand as he paused to cup her breast, pinching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He watched her face to make sure he kept the pressure just shy of painful.

"Oh, if she could only see those thoughts inside your head right now," he teased.

Smiling and arching up into his touch, Charley closed her eyes. "I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about."

He laughed heartily at that. "Really?"

He pulled just a bit harder, and she gasped. He dropped his hand, parting her thighs and slipping his fingers down into the wetness that was beginning to gather there. "I'm sure your thoughts are _completely_ innocent, is that right?"

Whimpering softly, she lifted her free hand and dug her nails into his shoulder as she nodded. "Completely."

He chuckled, moving his hand to her hip as he leaned down, drew her earlobe between his teeth, and pulled gently. "You're tempting me, Charley," he teased.

"Tempting you?"

"I can imagine a hundred things you might be thinking right now. I'm incredibly curious as to which scenario it is. And we both know I could find out."

"Hmm..." She smiled. "Who says it's just one scenario?"

Her breathing deepened noticeably as she trailed a hand up his neck to the side of his face. Using her thumb, she found his mouth before leaning up and kissing him softly. She was teeming with energy. He could almost feel the thoughts racing through her mind from her proximity alone. But he couldn't see them. Not unless he opened that door... The one that was just begging him to push through, into her mind. His curiosity really was insatiable. But at the same time, he knew she wasn't prepared for that. And he didn't want to scare her.

"Do it," he whispered as he pulled away gently from her kiss. He slid a hand beneath her arched back and curled his fingers, scraping her skin with dulled nails. Her tension and energy was seeping into him, and he could feel his body reacting. Hearts pumping faster, temperature rising... "Whatever you're thinking, do it."

She smiled, looking up at him as he traced her lips, pressing his fingers lightly, shallowly into her warm, wet mouth before withdrawing them. Her tongue followed - licking, teasing - and he couldn't help but lean into her hand as she ran it through his hair, dragging her nails across his scalp. He loved her touch - intimate and sensual, even when it was so innocent.

With the hand in his hair, she pulled him down and found his mouth again with hers. Her kiss lingered for a moment before she pulled away, taking his bottom lip between her teeth. "As I recall," she whispered, "the ties on this canopy are very sturdy."

He raised a brow, amused. "You've experimented with them before?"

She smiled as she lazily drew patterns on the back of his neck with her fingertips. "Only to tie up a certain pesky sister when she wouldn't leave me alone."

He chuckled. "I take it you're thinking of a very different use for them now."

"Not terribly different."

Moving beside her, he lay back comfortably on one arm. The other, he used to cup her breast again, toying with her sensitive nerves almost casually as he enjoyed her - the scent of her hot pheromones, the softness of her body against him, the sight of her, naked and playful and clearly wanting him. He smiled as she pushed herself up and placed both hands on his shoulders, straddling his waist.

As she settled her weight on him, his eyes slid closed, and he let her pin his wrists above his head. He didn't have to look at her to know she was smiling down at him, quite proud of herself. "Now what?" he asked as he finally, lazily opened his eyes.

She bit the corner of her lip, still smiling, and gave a tiny shrug. Amused by her take-charge incentive, and realizing that she seemed disinclined to follow it through, he let her enjoy her victory for a moment before he dug his heel into the mattress and heaved his weight to the side, throwing her off of him and onto the soft pillows beside him. She squeaked in surprise as she landed, only taking a moment to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her. He didn't quite have the coordination to regain his balance _and_ reach for her wrists at the same time, and he didn't have time for either as she lunged for him again.

The bed creaked, and he laughed as they rolled one over the other, wrestling and squirming, crumpling and kicking the bedclothes. He seemed to be stuck on his back every time he caught her hands, and she managed to wriggle them free before he could turn her over onto hers. Finally, he changed tactics. Ducking out from under her, he lunged for the pillows at the head of the bed and tossed one at her for a distraction. It gave him a few seconds to finally pull himself onto his knees as it knocked her over backwards, laughing loudly.

He lunged for her. Now that he had a starting point, instead of being caught off guard, and she was laughing too hard to squirm away, it was easy to grab her wrists and pin her. Her head was at the foot of the bed as he crawled over top of her quickly to prevent her escape. She writhed, giggling, as she tried halfheartedly to get out of his hold, then harder when he didn't let go. But she was smiling, and he didn't release his grip as he smirked down at her.

Digging her heels into the bed, she thrust her hips up, trying to buck him off. It didn't work. He was stronger than she was and they both knew it. Continuing to try to wrestle her hands away, she finally flopped her legs on the bed, blew a chunk of hair out of her face, and pouted. He chuckled softly and grabbed her pouting lower lip between his teeth, tugging for a moment before he kissed her, slow but possessive. She had no leverage now to get out from under his weight, and he was confident in his ability to hold her as he closed one hand over both of her wrists, reaching with the other hand for the tie around the curtain.

He wasn't quite able to ignore the growing pressure as she rubbed her body on his, tricking his instincts with the thrusting of simulated sex. She chuckled quietly, grinding her hips into his, undoubtedly aware of his growing erection against her thigh. But he kept his higher brain focused, winding the curtain tie around her wrists and fixing it securely to the bedpost in the corner.

Her thrusting was interrupted for a moment as he let her shift her body to the corner of the bed, lying diagonally across the mattress to avoid the awkward reach of both arms around her head. As she settled again, he moved his hands down from her wrists, along the full length of her arms, firmly over her breasts. Her hair was a rumpled mess, and he was pretty sure from the slight flush on her chest that she was no longer cold.

"Now what?" she mocked playfully.

"Hmm..."

He smiled as he slipped his fingers under the blindfold and raised it gently from her neck to her eyes. He tightened it carefully, making sure not to catch her hair in it, then moved his hands down, over her hips and then her thighs, parting them wide.

"That's better."

She let out a moan as the cool air kissed the heat pooled between her legs. He watched her tremble slightly, biting her lip, her back arched, seeking out his touch. "Doctor..."

That whinge in her voice, the pouty sort of moan, made him smile as he let his hand drift to the inside of his own thigh, easing his own need for contact. The sight of her - naked, blind, and tied with her legs spread wide - was like a drug. Her scent, the inviting warmth and wetness just waiting for him... She bit her lip and raised her hips, digging her heels into the mattress, offering herself to him.

"Doctor, please."

Swallowing tightly, he set his hands on the insides of her thighs to push them further apart, and leaned down to finally, gently set a warm, soft kiss on her lower lips. She gasped, and his eyes rolled back before sliding closed with pure satisfaction. The taste of her was intoxicating. It made every pleasure center in his brain fire, all at once. Nothing existed in that moment except for the two of them. The hot, salty flavor on his tongue, the softness of her thighs and the slick, smooth texture against his tongue as he pressed it gently past her inner folds.

Her hips bucked toward him, her moans low and strained as she fought to keep quiet. He could hear her breath, the quickened pace of it racing against every second that passed around and through them. Her temperature was rising, ever so slightly. Her juices were flowing, and he couldn't get enough of them as he licked and kissed and sucked and swallowed. With just a hint of teeth, he pulled at her, teasing with his tongue, his hands massaging gently as the muscles in her thighs tightened and released in time with the pace he was setting.

Her breaths came in short pants, teeth gritted as she groaned needfully. She was fighting the urge to scream out, legs kicking as she thrashed against her binding, moans turning into, low, pleading cries through clenched teeth. "Please... Please!"

The tremor in her thighs, the strangled sounds caught in her throat, the subtle change in her flavor - it all made him smile. The desperation in her whispers turned to satisfaction, and her body relaxed. Careful of overly sensitive nerves, he cleaned her with his tongue before finally, almost reluctantly, he pulled away. He slid his hands up to her knees as he looked down at her, licking her taste off of his lips. The sight of her panting and gasping, her whole body heaving, took his breath away.

"Charley, you are so beautiful..."

She smiled, her whole body trembling as she tried to catch her breath. Turning her head to rest on her arm, she hummed in absolute satisfaction. "That was amazing."

He smiled back, although he knew she couldn't see it, tracing light patterns with his thumb on the inside of her still-shaking thigh as he let her ease down a bit. He realized only after the fact that the circles and lines of his design were well known to him - his name, invisibly tattooed on her flesh.

His smile softened, and he watched her intently for a moment. Her hair was in her eyes, sticking to her forehead. Leaning over her, he brushed it away and kissed her brow, just above the bridge of her nose. "Do you trust me, Charley?"

She chuckled softly. "I let you tie me up, didn't I?"

He smiled quietly, and reached up to untie the thick, silk ribbon from the bedpost, but left it tight around her wrists as he sat up and pulled her with him, into his lap again with her knees on either side of his hips. Leaning back just slightly, he moved his hands to her hips and let them rest lightly as he studied her face. He couldn't see her eyes, but he knew them well enough from memory.

"Lots of people play games, Charley - especially in your species. All that takes is to know that I wouldn't hurt you."

She smiled softly. "Doctor, if you don't know by now that I trust you to the ends of the universe and back, there is nothing I could ever say or do to convince you."

He watched her for a moment more, then reached up to trace the outline of her lips with the very tip of his finger before he leaned in to kiss her... and pressed ever-so-gently on the edge of her mind. He didn't make his presence known, like a stranger in a crowd who slipped through the door and immediately blended in with the walls. There was nothing he could see in her mind that any mild telepath wouldn't have open access to - a few fleeting thoughts that jumbled one over the next, that hyper-awareness of his arousal and the tingling sensation still between her legs. He deepened the kiss, sliding his hand back into her hair and holding her as he probed more deeply.

She draped her tied arms around his neck and tried to tighten her embrace, pull herself closer to him, as she gave herself to him. He could feel her willingness. He could taste it and hear it as she moaned into his mouth, hips rotating, moving against his hard length. He could see it, even in the darkness of her blindfold. His own eyes slid closed as his body ached for her. She was warm, and soft, and comforting, and her body fit so neatly against his. He breathed in deeply, taking in her scent, slowly withdrawing from the kiss and dropping his head to pull gently at the side of her neck.

She groaned, tilting her head to give him better access. His scent was intoxicating, making her head swim. Shifting, she tried to gain a better position as her rhythm picked up. One thought peeked through the others in her mind. The emptiness between her thighs... her need... But the images were swirling and chaotic, confused if intense.

He moved his hands to her breasts, cupping his palms over them, rocking with the pace she set as he felt his own body tense with desperate, aching need, responding to her fingers in his hair, her breath in his ear, her salty taste still on his tongue.

"Talk to me Charley." He nipped lightly at her jaw, then slowly moved up to her earlobe. "Tell me what you want."

She wanted _him_. He knew it instantly, before she spoke. It was crystal clear in her mind. Turning her head, she found his ear, first with her tongue and then her teeth, pulling the lobe between them. She kissed the soft spot just below it, and he rubbed his cheek against hers, breathing in slowly as her memories took shape over top of her fleeting thoughts.

"I want you, Doctor."

The warmth of his kiss and the fumbling uncertainty that melted into ecstasy when his hands had first found her, the very first time he had touched her the way only a lover could... That feeling of fullness - shocking in its intensity - the first time he had pressed inside of her...

Moving his hands back to her hips, he lifted her weight off of his lap and moved his hips forward before pulling her back down, slowly, filling her. The sensation - his and hers and the white, suddenly scattered thoughts - made him moan her name without thought. Her hands twisted, reaching for something to grasp onto, nails digging into his scalp.

"Easy," he whispered as her teeth sank into his neck, deep enough to leave a highly visible mark. As she rocked against him, finding an easy rhythm, she released her hold on his neck, placing soft, soothing kisses.

He let her set the pace as he rocked with her. She felt good, and she felt good to him. There was nothing in her mind but pleasure, and as he pressed deeper and deeper, he found layer after layer of it. Contentment and security, love and longing for more. She trailed the kisses up his neck and along his jaw, periodically professing her love. Her forced blindness no longer inhibited her. She knew every inch of him. Her mouth finding his, she instantly opened to him, probing, exploring.

He could feel the vibration in her throat as she moaned, the rapid beating of her single heart. No longer standing on the edge of her consciousness, he was instead moving closer and closer to the very core of her - past memories and fantasies, through sensations and her awareness of self.

There was a little girl, buried in the depths of her. The little girl who'd grown up in this very room. He could've seen her at any time. All it would've taken was a quick trip in the Tardis to 1920 or thereabouts. But the Tardis couldn't have shown her to him like this - not the way she was, but the way she saw herself. Insecurities laid bare, secrets revealed, masks removed.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but he was surprised to find that the innocence of her childhood was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Loved, cared for, even smothered at times. But never a burden, or a shameful thing. So different from his own life and yet... they were so much the same now.

Eyes closed, breathing heavily, he pushed and pulled their bodies together, moving as one. She leaned her forehead against his, breathing deep, savoring his taste on her lips. A low growl came from somewhere, though she wasn't sure which one of them it was, as she pressed harder against him. Her pert, sensitive nipples were aroused even more by the sensation of his soft chest hair. Grinding her hips against his, moaning as he dug his fingers deeper into her hips, she traced the shell of his ear with her tongue.

"I want you to make me come, Doctor."

He smiled as he nuzzled her. "Again?" he teased, a bit breathless.

"Again." She smiled and kissed his neck. "And often."

He laughed quietly, and pulled back slightly, moving his hands up the front of her body again. His eyes traveled where his hands did, caressing her sweat-slicked skin. Wrists still tied behind his neck, she held him for balance as she arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward, and he bent down to kiss them, drawing them into his mouth one at a time. Completely connected to her now, he could feel the way the sensation exploded in her mind. He could hear it in her moan and feel it in the way she dug her nails into the back of his neck.

"Doctor!"

He pulled away before he sent her crashing over the edge. Not yet - not for her or for him. He wanted one last, long look at her, panting and gasping and writhing in her need. "Charley, you are so beautiful."

She moaned, a desperate sound that was probably meant to be his name. Smiling, he rubbed his thumbs lightly over her nipples.

"Do you want to see?" he whispered.

She frowned slightly, tilting her head in curiosity and slowing her rhythm. "What do you mean?"

His smile grew as his fingers lightly caressed and cupped her breasts. "Open your eyes, Charley," he whispered. "See yourself through mine."

Her frown deepened and she came to a complete stop. Her eyes _were _open, he could tell, just blindfolded. Confused, she closed her eyes and he smiled as he felt her deprived senses sync into his. She gasped at what she saw. There she was, naked and blindfolded, sitting on top of him, completely and utterly gorgeous.

She tried to reach a hand out to touch her face, only to find they were still bound. Smiling to himself, he moved his fingers up again to brush lightly over her nipples, letting her see herself jump in surprise at the sensation and the sheer intensity of it.

"How am I doing this?" she whispered.

"There are advantages to making love to a Time Lord," he answered simply.

He moved a hand to her face, tipping her head toward him slightly and tracing her lips with his thumb. He could feel it, as real and intense as she could. And he knew she could feel the soft texture of her own lips against his thumb. There was no telling anymore, where one ended and the other began.

Slowly she began moving on him again, and he relaxed into it, letting himself feel her feelings. Her scent overwhelmed her. She was captivated by the movement of her breasts as she slid up and down his shaft. And, oh, God, the feel of her heat on his length! That alone caused her walls to convulse, sending a surge of pleasure through her body as he reacted to it.

She crashed her mouth into his - hers? - marveling as their tongues entwined, feeling the same and different. Moaning deeply, she rocked against him, harder and faster, each thrust threatening to send her over the edge. She pulled away, gasping. Suddenly, she really wanted her hands free. She wanted to touch him, caress him, show him what he felt like to _her_. Leaning back, she yanked her arms up over his head.

"Untie!"

He kissed her again, clinging to that intimacy of their experience, amplified back and forth between them. His fingers worked blindly at the tie, burning to touch her again, to claim some new part of her that he hadn't quite fully explored yet. He wanted to spread her out on the bed and kiss her everywhere. He wanted - she wanted? - to taste his salty semen in her mouth. But more than anything, as his body wound tighter and tighter, he wanted to come inside of her. He wanted to feel himself fill her, muscles spasming, both of them clenched tightly in each other's minds as their bodies writhed blissfully in orgasm. That thought alone almost made him fall over the edge as he finally wrenched the tie away from her hands.

He didn't have to tell her how close he was. He knew she knew. Hands finally free, she plunged her fingers into his hair, pressing herself against him, moaning as she felt her nails drag across his scalp. Mouth pressed to his, she pushed further, laying him on the bed. She kissed along his jaw, down his neck, his collarbone, as she gradually sat back up. She ran her fingers through the hair on his chest while at the same time wanted so much to claim her breast with his mouth.

The sight of her above him, mouth parted, chest heaving, moving fluidly on him was mesmerizing. She gasped and bit her lip as she clenched around him again. She was so close. They both were. She didn't want it to end.

"Charley..."

His eyes rolled back as he held her hips, letting the pleasure claim him. Them. Both. Together. He felt it sweep over and through them, felt her womb clench, felt his cock pull up tight against his body in the instant before he released, spilling inside of her with a moan through gritted teeth. He reached up quickly, grabbed her hair, and pulled her down into a bruising kiss to muffle her cries and his own. Her hands clenched in the blankets, her entire body trembling from the sheer pleasure that shot through her.

Finally, she lay still, gasping, as the tension subsided. An aftershock shot through her as his cock twitched and her inner walls spasmed. Gradually, her body began to relax, the endorphins giving way to bliss. Breathing deep, she rested her head on his shoulder and smiled as she kissed his neck.

"I love you," she whispered dreamily.

"I love you too, Charley."

He drew in a slow, deep breath to match hers, drifting in the lazy afterglow - ebbing and fading thoughts, twitching nerves and warm relaxation. He buried a hand in her hair, massaging her scalp gently. A smile crossed his lips as his fingers brushed the blindfold and gently lifted it - off of her head, away from her eyes. Then he turned his head and kissed her forehead gently, easing into the soft security of her embrace.

"Charley?"

"Hmm?"

She was content, safe. Happy. No, not just happy. She was lost in an almost overwhelming feeling of bliss, and it made him smile to know he'd caused it. Happiness was an experience; she'd been happy the very first time she'd stepped into - and out of - the Tardis. But this was different. She was no longer a young, naive girl tagging along, looking for adventure. She'd grown and lived; she had a daughter. She was secure. She was fulfilled. And she was beautifully relaxed.

Stroking his fingers through her hair, he let the silence linger for a long moment before he whispered softly, "You know, I never thought about it... but we never had any kind of formal ceremony."

"Ceremony?"

He glanced down at her and she met his gaze with a curious one of her own.

"No, I suppose we didn't."

"Do you want one?"

She chuckled. "Since when have you ever stood on ceremony?"

"We could go back five years and put it on the record, just in case your family ever went looking."

Still looking at him strangely, her brow furrowed. "Are you asking me to marry you? Like... officially?"

"In a legal sense? I think it'd be pointless."

"Then what are you asking?"

"I'm asking if you want the experience," he clarified. "The wedding. The ceremony."

She looked up at him, searching his eyes. "It... never even occurred to me. I mean... it's something we had to tell my family or they would _never _approve, but... I just never thought..."

"You don't have to answer now."

She reached a hand up and cupped the side of his face, her thumb stroking along his cheekbone. "Do _you_ want one?"

He shrugged. "It's not something that's really done, among my people. At least, not the way that you do." He scratched her scalp lightly with dulled nails, smiling faintly. He loved these moments; just the two of them in the dark, naked and relaxed. "As of the first time we exchanged genetic information, my people look at you and they see that you're mine. That's far more pertinent than any ceremony."

She was intrigued by his suggestion. He could still feel her thoughts swirling gently in his mind. She'd always pictured getting married; what little girl didn't? The big dress, the cake, a church full of their families and friends. Julia could be their flower girl. A fond smile started to form as she pictured it. But what about his side? Who would he invite? Who _could_ he? Of course, she couldn't very well go back and invite her family to an event they'd never been to or it would make this entire experience paradoxical. He smiled faintly. She was getting the hang of time travel.

Her eyes drifted, following her fingers as they ran through his hair. "I don't need a ceremony," she finally whispered. "Knowing how you see me, how much you love me, is more than enough."

He smiled faintly and pulled her closer, kissing her forehead. He nuzzled her gently as he wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her close. His hands wandered lazily up and down her back, intimate and solid. But he didn't speak, just tucked her head under his chin again and breathed deep, his chest rising and falling. Smiling, she melted into him. Her scent enveloped her as the steady thrum of his twin heart beats lulled her to a quiet, relaxing sleep. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he hummed contentedly as his eyes slid closed. The outside world had long since faded away, leaving them in a world all their own. And as he felt her settle on top of him, he realized he couldn't have been happier with the world left to them.


End file.
